You Can't Avoid Fate
by Gatergirl79
Summary: Sherlock has a secret he's kept from everyone, even John, but one man knows and he's about to use it against his nemesis. Merlin/Arthur (Slash) Sherlock/John (pre-slash - maybe). No Beta
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, my first Sherlock/Merlin crossover. This is not some weird Merlin/Sherlock slash!**

**Pairings: Merlin/Arthur (serious slash) Sherlock/John (personally unsure…maybe pre-slash) **

**Details: Only slight AU for Sherlock – as it's set directly after the events at the pool with Moriarty, alternate version of season two. As for Merlin, complete AU, a few of the character appear but it's mainly Merlin/Arthur. **

**I've had to take a bit of a liberty with the ages of the characters, as there is actually only ten years difference between Colin Morgan and Benedict Cumberbatch. (Who would have guessed huh?)**

**WARNING: NO BETA'ED, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! IF THIS IS LIKELY GOING TO DISTRACT YOU, STOP BEFORE YOU START.**

**Still there? Good. Enjoy :D**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

_30__th__ May 2011_

"_I'll burn the heart out of you."_

"_I've been reliably informed I don't have one."_

"_We both know that's not quite true…"_

The conversation was still haunting him, even after almost two months. So much so that every time his phone went his heart pounded in his chest and it was a struggle to keep his hands from shaking visible. John had noticed obviously and had asked him countless times what was wrong, but as with everything personal, Sherlock brushed it off, deciding to throw himself and John into their work. - But all the time his mind replayed Moriarty's threat.

No-one knew. Not John, not even Mycroft and Sherlock liked it that way. It was better for them all. Safer. His life was dangerous; he made enemies, sometimes enemies he didn't even know about. He didn't want those enemies using him as a weapon. Sadly though, one enemy had discovered his secret and was doing exactly what Sherlock had tried to avoid. After all you can only avoid fate for so long.

He could still remember the day he'd gotten the email from Hunith, almost seven years ago now. It had been a surprise that was for sure, they hadn't seen each other since their late teens, when Hunith was sent to live with family in Wales with no explanation. Now Sherlock knew the explanation all too well, but at the time it had been hard losing his only friend, something he hadn't gotten over until he'd met John.

Hunith had been one of the few people that understood and accepted Sherlock completely, she'd been very much like John in that respect, and because of that they'd been close for a long time. So close in fact that she'd been the one he'd turned to when peer pressure and curiosity got the better of him. Though reluctant, she'd been understanding and agreeable, something Sherlock had often wondered if she'd regretted, considering the course her life took.

Hunith had contacted him with the news that she was sick. Terminal. Sherlock hadn't handled that as well as he would have expected considering the length of her absences from his life. He'd already been dabbling; her revelations had tripped him over the edge and saved him in equal measure. He'd fallen deep into the dark abyss of drugs and danger until he'd been informed of her death. Almost instantly he'd straightened himself out because he had a promise to keep.

Sherlock had often wondered over the past year if his reaction to losing John would be the same? He had to admit that his feelings for the ex-army doctor were stronger than the ones he'd had for Hunith, and when he'd seen that bomb strapped to his chest he'd felt a very real fear in the pit of his stomach. Sherlock had spent years locking away the vulnerable humanity in him. It was easier to live that way. He had very few close acquaintances and only one real friend. He knew that these thing made him weak but his biggest weakness, the one that could actually destroy him completely was the young man who's life Moriarty threatened, the young man who carried his blood if not his name. Merlin was his greatest weakness and Moriarty knew it.

**~ MERLIN/SHERLOCK ~**

_Cardiff, Wales_

Merlin was late, as he always was. But what did everyone expect when trying to balance a part time job with collage and a social life. He knew what his great uncle Gaius thought. _"Studies come above everything."_ but the old man had it so easy, a job he loved, a comfortable home without the worries of noisy flat-mates and at present a nice cruise in the nice sun bleach tropics. What did he care about a love life, he was too old for one anyway. So sure, Merlin put his studies first, sadly life didn't.

It was said love life that was the cause of his current lateness. His attempt to actually get one had forced him to reluctantly accept Will's offer of a set up and as predicted it had gone terrible. The guy was cute, what was he thinking? He was more than just cute which had been the first strike against him. The good looking and I know it type didn't float Merlin's boat, he preferred personality and subtle good looks. Will said he was too picky and that guys and girls would eat their grandmothers to get hit on by the hotties Merlin had trailing after him most of the time, which was strike two. He didn't want to be hit on, or chatted up; he wanted something a little more meaningful.

Don't get him wrong, he wasn't foolish enough to want some kind of gay fairy-tale with a handsome prince to sweep him off his feet. He just wanted it to be natural, not just dating and sex. He wanted someone that just understood him and all his wacky ways. Who accepted him for who he was, no questions asked. He knew it was an impossible dream, things like that didn't happen. You didn't meet people and instantly get on. Lasting trust and relationships took time and work, but hey everyone deserved their dreams.

Merlin turned the corner; he wasn't far from Roald Dahl Plass, so he picked up speed to an almost run. So distracted by his daydreams of handsome princes, he didn't see the black range rover until it side swiped him into next week. He crashed to the ground painfully, his head connecting with the concrete, a feeling of warm blood trickling down his neck and forehead and a sharp pain in his side. With effort he opened his eyes as wide as he could, which wasn't all that wide, only to see two sets of black boots marching towards him.

He gasped in pain when two sets of hands yanked him off the floor and manhandled him into the backseat of the range rover. He was barely conscious from the accident and his head injured had his head spinning, his vision blurring and blood pouring down the back of his neck. The men shoved a dark hood over his head making him gasp a second time. When they let him go he slumped back against the seat, trying to stay conscious even as the abyss crowded in on him.

When the car took off at speed with a scream of tires, Merlin was thrown against the window, causing him to groan loudly in pain. His kidnappers didn't take kindly to the noise and before the sound had faded to nothing a hard fist was thrust into his jaw, knocking him out cold.

The last thought on the young man's mind was that he was so getting fired.

**~ MERLIN/SHERLOCK ~**

"Father you can't be serious?"

The old man's steel gaze lifted to his son. "I've given you an order Arthur, you will follow it."

Arthur tried not to wither under the intense stare but unlike his sister, Arthur wasn't able to withstand his father's heartless glares, or visible disappointment. His own blue eyes dropped to the floor. "Can't you get someone else to play babysitter? - I though you wanted me to put the men though…."

"No! - This is more important than training the men. - I want you to handle it."

If Arthur was honest he didn't have much of a problem playing nursemaid, he was due for a vacation anyway. What bothered Arthur was the whys. Something in his father's manner told him this wasn't some kind of protection detail, this was trouble and Arthur instinctively hated trouble.

It wasn't like he didn't mind getting his hands dirty, that had never been a problem, he actually liked the idea of a good fight, loved the feel of blood on his hands, to an extent. But he didn't like cleaning up other people mess, he didn't like having to answer to others and he most certainly didn't like the prospect of bring the full force of the Met down on them. Which his gut screamed was going to happen.

"Father, this doesn't feel right."

Uther looked up at his son, the steel still in his gaze but there was something else in there briefly. "I didn't ask about your feelings, Arthur. We have been ordered to do something and we're going to do it. Understood?"

_Ordered? Not hired, or asked but ordered_. That alarm was getting louder. "By who"?

Uther Pendragon fixed his only son with a penetrating stare that sent a shiver down the younger man's spine. "That is none of your concern. - You can do as I've ordered…" his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "…or I can have Valiant do it."

Arthur knew what the older man was doing. It wasn't just that Arthur didn't like or trust Valiant, it was that the man was ruthless and cared little for anything. Arthur couldn't even begin to count the amount of times bystanders had ended up hurt or dead because of the man. It was always a bone of contention between him and his father but Uther saw Valiant not only as a son but as a vital member of their operation.

"Fine." Arthur sighed, finally giving into his fathers will as they had both known he would. "How long is this going to take?"

Uther shrugged. "Until ordered otherwise, so I suggest you get enough supplies for a very long stay."

Arthur gave a small nod before turning to leave, his stomach already in knot at the prospect of what lay ahead of him.

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><p><strong>AN: So there's the first chapter done. What you think? **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I made a wallpaper for this story. Here's the link if you want to check it out. .com/art/Merlin-Sherlock-Crossover-288818987**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

_The England/Welsh Boarder_

The house was a smallish cottage like place that looked like it was on its last legs, with tiles and paint well over due for restoration, clearly the place had been abandoned a long time ago. It sat near a small lake in the middle of vast open countryside, large rolling hills on all sides, giving it the feeling of being another world. Under different circumstances it would have been the perfect place for a vacation, Arthur had thought as the black range rover pulled up outside. He would be cut off from the world around him and the only way in or out of the valley was a small ragged road that would probably be a health hazard after dark. There was no escaping this place, which made it the perfect place to keep a hostage and that thought made Arthur's insides turn to water.

He stared up at the place with trepidation. He'd been there less than five minutes when he heard another car approaching, turning to see a matching black range rover coming bumpily up the thin path that turned off from the dangerous road. Arthur watched a little nervously as the passenger side door opened and out climbed the familiar face of Valiant, his characteristic hard scowl fixed in place. He walked to the back door, yanking it open and pulling roughly on a crumpled form. Arthur felt his guts tightened as Valiant dropped the weight at his feet like it was little more than a bag of rubbish.

"Father said he wasn't to be hurt!" Arthur snapped angrily.

Valiant met his gaze with a humourless cold smile. "Your father said alive."

Arthur glanced down at the body that didn't look all that alive to him.

"And he is." Valiant clarified begrudgingly. "My jobs done… for now."

Arthur felt an unpleasant shiver run through him at the other man's words and tone.

"Enjoy the vacation Mary Poppins." the man joked as he headed back to the car which barely waited for him to take his seat before moving away.

Arthur wished the man didn't intimidate him quite so much, but there was a heartless determination in Valiant that reminded him of movie psychopaths. - And the best way to handle psychopaths is just to keep out of their way. - Or employ them.

Dropping to the ground next to the body, Arthur reached out to take the exposed wrist, checking for a pulse. Thankfully it was there, strong against his fingertips and he sighed with relief. "Leon, help me get him inside." Arthur ordered over his shoulder in a firm commanding tone.

With an arm each the two men carried the unconscious body though the house towards one of the bedrooms, dropping it on the unmade bed, Arthur stood back.

"Fetch me the first aid case from the car." Arthur ordered. When Leon didn't move Arthur glanced up. "Is there a problem?" his tone harsh.

Leon fidgeted, looking at his feet. "I - I was ordered by your father to drop you off and return immediately."

Arthur sighed; no-one disobeyed his father, not if he wanted to keep his job and his life. With his fists on his hips he regarded the other man with understanding though anger and frustration shone though. "I'm not asking you to stay Leon…" he snapped. "Just fetch me the case, unload the supplies. - Then you can leave."

Leon gave him a shameful nod as he rushed out of the room.

Arthur stared down at the unconscious boy whose name he didn't even know. His cloths were torn, dirty and stained with blood, making Arthur wonder just what Valiant had done to him. Reaching out he gripped the black hood, wincing as he pulled it off. It was thick with blood that stained Arthur's fingers as he dropped the fabric on the floor beside him. His gaze fixed on the hostage. The boy couldn't have been more than twenty, with hair almost as black as the hood his kidnappers had forced over his head. Arthur could see it was already coated with blood. His pale face was now masked with red and blue from the scrapes and bruises, cuts marred his lower lip and right eyebrow.

Arthur felt his fingers folding in on themselves as he stared at the younger man, anger flaring in his stomach for no reason. This had been unnecessary, they could have taken the boy unharmed, he doubted he'd put up at fight, which mean's Valiant had done this to satisfy some kind of blood lust. He turned away from the bed and marched furiously out of the room, to the kitchen. He needed to clean him up, see how bad the injuries were, thankfully he'd come prepared, loading one of the companies large medical cases into the car, because he'd know the hostage was going to arrive injured in some way.

In the kitchen he found Leon unloading the boxes of supplies, they'd brought enough food to feed an army for a month…or them for a year. Uther had told his son that this was of unforeseen duration and that the house was situated away from village, town or city. So Arthur had come prepared for every eventuality. Leon dropped the last box on the table and turned to Arthur. "That's everything." he clearly didn't want to leave and Arthur felt a surge of gratitude.

"Thanks. - Tell my father I'll be in contact."

Leon gave a brief nod. "Good luck Arthur."

"Luck? What do I need luck for." he smirked confidently.

Leon smiled back, shook the other man's hand and left.

Arthur went to retrieve water from the rusty sink, thankful it still worked, as he heard the car start and move over the gravel. Taking a bowl from one of the cupboards he filled it with cold fresh water, balanced it on top of the medical case and walked back to the bedroom.

**~ MERLIN/SHERLOCK ~**

Sherlock rushing back into the flat and straight to his room.

"Sherlock?" John called; when no answer came he headed back to find Sherlock throwing clothes in a bag.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? Are we going somewhere?"

"No."

"No?" John frowned, looking from the bag to Sherlock.

"_I_ am."

"Alone?"

"Yes?"

John stood open mouthed. "Where?"

"Wales."

"Why?"

Sherlock glanced up at his friend and saw the worry in his gaze. He knew his friend deserved an explanation but he just couldn't bring himself to. It would lead to questions he wasn't ready or willing to answer.

He wondered why he was so reluctant to tell his biggest secret to the man who already knew so much about his life. Perhaps he was scared he'd disappoint the man. John had his own moral ideals that Sherlock had failed to meet up to on more than one occasion. He feared what his friend would say if he knew.

"It's personal." Sherlock finally said, instantly regretting it as he saw hurt and anger battle in John gaze.

"Huh." John grunted before turning around and marching out of the room.

Sherlock sighed, staring down at his bag, guilt rippling through him. John had been through so much with him. He'd risked his life in the game with Moriarty. Maybe it was time to tell someone and if he couldn't tell his best friend who could he tell. Picking up his bag, Sherlock walked out of his room to find John sat in his chair reading a paper. His body language screamed anger. With a deep breath Sherlock put his faith in his friendship with the doctor. "Pack a bag."

"No." John snapped. "I don't want to interfere with your _personal _life."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, dropping the bag on the floor with a bang before snatching the paper violently from his friends grasp. "Don't be childish John. Get your things. I'll explain everything on the way."

**~ MERLIN/SHERLOCK ~**

The pair sat across from one another in silence for the first hour of the journey, Sherlock tapping away on his mobile while John watching him with curiosity, still angry at the arrogant sod. After all he'd almost died for the man and there he was throwing around words like. 'Personal.' Like Sherlock even knew what it meant, hell he'd been happy enough to invade his personal life, there was nothing the consulting detective didn't know about John Watson.

"So?" John finally said, growing frustrated with the man's silence for the first time since they'd met.

Sherlock glanced up from his phone, sighing he put it away and stared across at the doctor.

"Talk." John ordered sharply, when it looked like the man wasn't going to say a word.

"It's a kidnapping..." the detective stated matter-of-factly. "…a young man of nineteen."

John frowned. "You said it was personal?" He watched as his friend shifted slightly in his seat, a strange sight to see the world only consulting detective look uncomfortable.

"Yes, it is." Sherlock finally replied, glancing out of the train window.

"Why?" John pressed cautiously, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. His heart rate increasing as he waited with baited breath.

Sherlock met his friends gaze unflinchingly. "Because he's my son."

To say John was shocked would be an understatement of epic proportions. "Your _son?" _he gasped. "But… But you - you - Girls aren't your area."

Sherlock smiled, rolling his eyes. "You know how I love to experiment John. How do you think I discovered girls weren't my area? - And I was a teenager once. As difficult as it might be to believe."

The whole thing was difficult to believe. John slouched in his seat and tried to absorb the new information. Sherlock Holmes, Mr Married-to-his-work, had a son, a nineteen year old son. John felt like he'd stepped through the looking glass. "What…?" he fell silent for a long moment, his brain buzzing from overload. "… I don't know what to say Sherlock."

"Why must you say anything?" the detective frowned.

John shrugged. "I don't know, I just… you've got a son Sherlock, that's well…. I would never have thought it possible."

A pregnant silence filled the carriage as the two friends watched each other like seeing the other first time.

Finally John's brain started working again. "You said he's been kidnapped. How do you know? - Who by?"

Sherlock sent him that look, the one that said 'you know the answer.'

"Moriarty." John sighed, a sympathetic look on his face as his friend nodded, fishing out the card that had come that afternoon.

John stared down at the common father's day card for a second before opening it and gasping at the sight of the bloody hand print, his gaze snapping to stared wide eyed at Sherlock.

"It's his blood. I've confirmed it." The detective stated matter-of-factly, though John saw the twitch in his tense jaw.

"I'm sorry Sherlock."

"Moriarty said he'd burn me. I fear this is the first step."

They fell into silence for the rest of the journey. John spending the time coming to terms with the fact that the man he'd spent almost a year living with was still very much a stranger to him.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Please Review :)** **you will keep me focused. **

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

Arthur stared out at the late afternoon sky. It had taken him almost an hour to clean away all the blood from his hostage's body, now it was a waiting game. He prayed the boy would survive; cause if he didn't the blame would fall on him even though the injuries were caused by Valiant.

He glanced over his shoulder to the body that lay wrapped under the covers. He'd had to strip him of his blood stained jacket, jumper and t-shirt, as well as his dirty, damp jeans, leaving him only in his underwear before wrapped him securely in the blanket. The bed beneath him still unmade.

Arthur had been proven correct in his estimations of the younger man's looks. Once the blood had been washed away, Arthur could see the man perfect bone structure and porcelain skin, highlighted by the thick raven hair. Removing his clothes had revealed a slim yet subtly tones physic that was surprisingly attractive. He swiftly turned back to the view, fixing his eyes on the afternoon sun tainted lake. He couldn't allow his lust to cloud his judgment. It had been the first thing he'd learned years ago. Don't get emotionally or physically involved on a job…because that's when you got hurt.

A moan had Arthur crossing the room. Dark lashes fluttered against pale flesh, another moan of pain slipping from the split and blood stained lips.

"Hey…you're alright. Don't move." Arthur said in a firm yet slightly gentle tone.

The young man tried to speak but his throat was rough and dry. Arthur went to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen, returning, he gently lifted the man up, causing him to groan again, the sound igniting Arthur's lust. He took a dew sips before Arthur settled him back against the blood stained pillow.

"W-where - a-am - I?"

Arthur frowned. "Safe. That's all you need to know." his tone firmer than before.

He watched as the man force open his eyes open, staring up at him. "W-who are - y-you?"

Arthur swallowed at the deep blue gaze with sprinkled with gold in its depths. "A-Arthur. - What's your name?"

"M-Me-Merlin." he stuttered, his eyes fighting to stay open.

Arthur almost laughed. _Did people really call their kids Merlin? - And was this some kind of cosmic joke?_ "You need to rest." he said moving away from the bed.

"W-what ha-happened?" Merlin's rough deep voice ringing in Arthur's ears as he faced the window once more, biting his lip as the voice went straight to his libido. This really was a cosmic joke. "Just rest." he finally replied in a harsher tone than he intended, as he marched from the room.

~**MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

Sherlock and John stood on the doorstep of his son's flat. Sherlock had always known where the boy was, whether he contacted him or not. His foot was tapping with frustration as he waiting for someone to answer the door, hoping that it would be Merlin. When there was no sign of it being opened, Sherlock glanced though the letter box. Deducing there was no-one home he pulled out his lock-picking tools and went to work, John standing guard behind him.

Inside they made their way through the flat, searching for anything that might tell them where the young man was. John paused by the door, flicking through the small pile of post, frowning to himself when he realised he hadn't asked the boy's name.

"Sherlock?"

"John."

"What's his name?"

Sherlock glanced back from the living room doorway. "Merlin." then glared as he saw the amusement in his friends gaze.

"Really?"

Sherlock sent him a stern look. "I had no say in naming him."

John frowned, returning to his previous activity of searching the post. There were two letters addressed to Merlin Emrys.

"He's got a couple of letters." John held them out as Sherlock continued to riffle though the contents of bookshelves.

"Bills. Nothing of use." Sherlock called over his shoulder.

John sighed and dropped them on the coffee table, looking around the small untidy room. "Have you checked his bedroom?"

Sherlock shook his head and waved a hand, indicating that John should go.

"I don't know which is his room?"

"Just check them all." Sherlock announced, opening a cabinet.

"And what exactly am I looking _for_?"

"Anything that may indicate where he is."

John rolled his eyes and exhaled a heavy breath. _Cause Moriarty's going to let him leave a note_.

It took John two seconds to locate Merlin's room, the name plate being very helpful indeed. Pushing open the door, John smiled at the chaos within. "Just like his father I see." walking deeper into the room, he scanned his surroundings; still at a loss as to want he was meant to be searching for. The walls were covered with a few movie and band posters, a desk to his right was covered with thick text books and papers. "Must be at Collage or Uni." John mumbled, walking over to check. "Law, huh." John laughed. "Most defiantly his father's son."

As he continued to riffle though the papers, flicking though the books he saw a photo frame on the chest of drawers to his left. Abandoning the search John strolled over, lifting it from its resting place. It was of a boy about twelve or so years of age, stood between an older man in his late fifties and a woman, who John guessed was the boy's mother. Everything about the boy told him he was Sherlock's son. They had many of the same features, all dark hair and cheek bones. So much for their only being one Sherlock Holmes in the world.

After a brief glimpse of the boy, John's gaze fixed on the woman. She was pretty in a sweet, plain kind of way, nothing like the kind of woman John would have pictured for Sherlock, if he'd ever picture Sherlock with a woman. He'd convinced himself that his flat-mate was gay – as did everyone else. - And not at all interested in relationships, Turned out he had been once. John couldn't understand why it made him feel ever so slightly jealous.

With his focus trapped between staring at the picture and his own thoughts, he didn't notice Sherlock had entered the room until his voice sounded from directly behind him.

"That's his mother, Hunith."

John didn't look around, scared his smart-ass friend would see what had been running though his mind not two seconds ago. "She's pretty. - Have you contacted her? Maybe she knows…."

"She died six years ago." Sherlock stated evenly.

John head snapped around to stare at the taller man. "Oh… I - I'm sorry Sherlock."

The detective brushed John's sympathetic words off like lint and turned to begin searching the room more thoroughly.

"So…How did you meet?" John found himself asked as he replaced the photo to its home.

"She lived in the village near my boarding school."

John watched his friend, arms folded and backside resting against the edge of Merlin's desk. "That doesn't tell me how you met." Sherlock was being obtuse on purpose.

"We just met." Sherlock shrugged, pulling a box from under his son's bed.

"Sherlock…" John tried not to sound frustrated. "…you never just meet anyone."

The detective shot him a raised brow. "I just meet people every day John, as do you."

"Fine, but you don't have a kid with someone you just meet."

Sherlock sat on the edge of the unmade bed and opened the box, staring down at the photographs inside. "She'd lost her bike, or more precisely it was stolen by some of the boys from my school…"

John smiled. He should have known there was a crime involved somewhere. "And?"

"And I retrieved it for her. - We became friends."

John didn't know whether to smile or frown. He'd always assumed that Sherlock had had a lonely childhood and it was nice to know he'd had at least one friend. But at the same time he couldn't help the feeling of jealousy at the thought that Sherlock had such a close friendship with someone before him. - It meant he wasn't quite as special as he thought.

"She understood me, accepted me…" Sherlock murmured, looking down at a photo of Hunith and their son as a baby. "She was the first person I ever felt completely comfortable around. - I've only every had two real friends in my life…" Sherlock was saying as he tore his gaze away from the photo to look up at his best friend. "…Her and you."

John swallowed hard, guilty for every feeling jealous. Of course Sherlock had other friends, after all he had other friends or at least he did have before he met Sherlock, so was it fair to begrudge the man his past friendship. Taking a deep cleansing breath John smiled. "So how did you two….you know?"

"It was two years after we'd first met. I was getting a hard time from the boys at the school. - You know how it is I'm sure John?"

Oh yeah, he could well imagine. Sherlock wasn't exactly the bullies best friend, his brains, arrogance, gifts and not to mention the uncertainty over which side of the fence he played on, would have made him a prime target.

"…I don't know why I did it, or why Hunith agreed. But they were baiting me about sex and never having a girlfriend. Hunith stepped up to my defense. It was all meant to be pretend. Make them think we were together…"

"But it became more?" John finished, forcing back that inexplicable feeling of jealousy again.

Sherlock shrugged. "It was just once, an experiment really. Hunith as always understood, at least she said she did, though I never really believed her. - Anyway, I returned home for the summer and when I got back to school in September Hunith was gone, sent to live in Wales with her uncle and his wife." Sherlock nodded to the photo on the chest. "I got a few letters from her, but soon they stopped."

John frowned at the unfamiliar sound of sadness in Sherlock's voice. The man was usually so good at hiding all his emotions. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."

The detective shrugged. "I got over it." He replied unfeelingly.

John couldn't help but doubt that statement, sure beyond words that Hunith's abandonment was the root cause of Sherlock detachment from the world around him.

"We should go before his friends return. We do not want to be caught. - Beside there is nothing of help here…" he voice filled with disappointment and frustration as he got up from the bed.

John's heart clenched a little when he saw Sherlock putting a few photo's in the pocket of his overcoat. He'd probably say they might be useful at some point, though John had a sneaking suspicion it was more a case of human sentiment.

This case may be about finding Sherlock son, but for John it was about also finding the real Sherlock Holmes.

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><p><strong>THANKS FOR READING AND REVIEWING. <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Arthur was woken at dawn by the sound of movement in the kitchen. He leapt from his bed, grabbing his weapon. Slowly he moved through the house, his gun raised, ready to shoot the intruder. On the threshold of the kitchen, Arthur stared as the fridge door blocking his view of the intruder. "Hey!" The door slammed close to reveal a stunned, panicked form, the bottle of open water dropping, spilling on the floor.

"Wow…" Merlin's hands flew up, his back hitting the kitchen counter as he backed away. "Calm it."

It took Arthur as few moments to start thinking again. Dropping the weapon he glared angrily at the man who'd been a bumbling idiot the night before. Arthur had expected him to remain comatose for a few days at least.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I was thirsty." Merlin defended.

"I could have killed you, moron!"

"Yeah, I noticed." Merlin looked from the half-naked man to his handgun. "Have you always been a prat or is it a new thing?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur stared wide eyed.

Merlin's head tiled to the side a little as he took in the man. "Well who were you expecting?"

Arthur's mouth hung open. "I - Uh."

A smirk spread across the dark haired man's face, his hand gesturing to the window. "Don't know if you noticed but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere."

Was this guy crazy? Had the head injury caused more damage than he'd first thought?

"You want to tell me where the hell we are!" Merlin snapped, his hands resting on his hips.

Arthur shrugged. "You're taking this awfully well?" he finally asked, unsure what else to say.

"We'll I've already tried to leave while you were asleep, no dice. So I figure whoever you are, you're my only way out of here."

"You're a freak, you know that." Arthur smirked. "Most people being held hostage in the middle of nowhere would be screaming bloody murder. - Maybe that bang on the head addled your brain."

"Hostage?" Merlin narrowed his gaze at the man in front of him. "Is that what I am? - Why?"

"Honestly I haven't got a clue. I was just ordered to baby-sit you." _Why the hell am I telling him this?_

"By who?" Merlin's arms folded over his own bare chest.

Arthur shrugged, determined not to mention his father's involvement.

"You just follow orders like some idiot, don't you? And you say I'm a moron." Merlin scoffed.

"Hey!" the blond snapped indignantly. "Wow…" Arthur rushed forwards as the dark hair man seemed to lose his balance, his arms gripping his biceps, holding him on his feet. "…You alright. - You should be resting, you lost a lot of blood yesterday."

"Yeah, I might sit down for a bit." Merlin murmured a little breathless, his head hanging forwards as a sheen of perspiration beginning to coat his forehead.

"Come on, back to bed."

"I never go to bed with strangers on the first date." Merlin joked, his head falling to Arthur's shoulder.

The blond wished the idiot would keep his mouth closed; his deep rough voice was having the same effect on him as a night in strip club. And on top of that he was pushing all the right buttons to get him railed up in every way possible.

He walked Merlin back into his room and remembered the bed still wasn't made. Glance at the dark haired man for a few seconds, he sighed. "Do you think you can sit on that chair without passing out?"

"Uh, w-why?" Merlin stuttered, his head not moving from the slightly taller man's shoulder.

"So I can change the sheets."

"Aww, you are so sweet." Merlin teased even as his head was spinning.

"Shut up idiot."

Arthur dropped the sick young man on the chair and went about making the bed, thanking heaven he'd had the forethought to bring clean sheets. It didn't take him that long, the young man's eye on him all the while. When he'd finally finished, he fished Merlin out of his seat and dropped him on the single bed, pressing his hand to the man's forehead.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like death." Merlin murmured.

"Well just as long as you don't actually die. - I actually want to get paid." he said, only partly joking, he feared that his father would be furious if Merlin died and would take it out on Arthur wholly.

"Jeez, thanks."

Arthur smirked as his straightened up, staring down at the now half unconscious man. "You're welcome. Now sleep!" he ordered, before heading for the door.

"Arthur…"

The blond paused on the threshold, looking back at the pale face. "What."

"W-Why am I here?"

Arthur met his gaze across the space. "I swear Merlin, I don't know." Merlin nodded and passed out, leaving Arthur asking the same question.

~**MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

"I just want to know why he's here?" Arthur insisted in a quiet voice down the phone.

"_It's none of your concern why Arthur."_

"But…"

"_No buts, Arthur. Just watch him." _Uther snapped_._

Arthur hung his head as he scratched the back of his neck. "None of this makes any sense. - And Valiant almost killed him."

"_I'm aware of the incident with Valiant, but he's alive isn't he."_

"Yes, but only just. - And I think he's suffering from a concussion."

There was a long silence, Arthur leaning forward on his knees. When he'd left an unconscious Merlin, pale and looking like death, he'd come back to his room and fished the phone he'd brought for emergencies out of his bag. He'd hoped foolishly that his father would at least tell him what this was about, but Uther Pendragon was the most stubborn man the world had ever known.

_"Arthur just keep him alive alright, the man who hired us wants him to stay that way."_

"Who hired us father."

"_Arthur_…" Uther sighed. "…_leave it alone, just follow orders_."

"Arthur! - _Arthur_!"

The blond was on his feet at the sound of a stained desperate voice. "Fine, following orders." he said angrily down the phone, hanging it up without a goodbye, dropping it on the bed he rushed to Merlin's room.

"Merlin? What's wrong?"

"I - I think I'm going…." his features paled further as he hung his head over the bed.

Arthur knew instantly what was about to happen, he ran as fast as he could down to the kitchen to retrieve the bowl.

He got back just too late, as Merlin blew chunks, Arthur slide to a stop and groaned. "You couldn't have held off just a few more second!"

Merlin fell back onto the mattress with a moan.

Arthur knelt beside the bed, begrudgingly cleaning the floor fighting his gag reflex. "You just wait till you're well again; I'm so going to make you pay for this."

~**MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

Sherlock had expected something; some clue or message left that would taunt and guide him. Moriarty had done just that a few months ago, giving him clues to crimes he'd helped commit, showing him where to go, leading him straight to the pool where Carl Powers had died and where John's life had hung in the balance, yet now when he wanted those taunting texts and phone calls there was nothing at all.

They'd searched Merlin's flat, spoken to his friends and employer, no one knew anything. In fact they hadn't even known he was missing, which had predictably angered Sherlock. He'd spoken to the local police as well, but they'd brushed it off with the usual tosh of "_He's probably visiting friends. He is over eighteen/ You'll have to wait forty eight hours before we can officially clarify him as missing."_ All of which had infuriated Sherlock beyond words. He'd had to be escorted from the station.

So with no leads in Cardiff they'd headed back to London. Sherlock hoping Moriarty would make his next move soon before he lost his mind completely, because the sudden uncontrollable flood of emotion was unsettling him and he was worried that the longer this continued the more damage it would have on his usually clinical personality

John had watched his friend with sympathy and surprise. In the year they'd been flat-mates and friends, Sherlock had rarely shown anything close to human emotions. - Well, actually that wasn't wholly true, he had shown some - arrogance, frustration and anger. The only time John had seen anything resembling fear in the man's blue eyes had been at the pool when he'd seen the bomb strapped to his chest. But the fear and anxiety John had seen in Sherlock over the past twenty four hours. - No, it had been longer than that, it had been months, was hard to take. He couldn't imagine what the man was going through. As much as Sherlock acted like he didn't care, the way he was now told John he cared a lot, just as a father should.

When Sherlock had told him about Merlin, he'd been shocked, then concerned. The anger had manifested over dinner the night before when John had demanded to know why he hadn't told him. Sherlock had simply said it was none of his concern, which had inevitable lead to more harsh words and John removing himself from Sherlock's presence before he did or said something they'd both regret.

It wasn't till he was lying awake in bed that he began to understand why Sherlock had kept his son's existence a secret. This was the reason. - Being the son of the Sherlock Holmes made Merlin a target. Sherlock hadn't told anyone not because he didn't care about his son or didn't trust John, but because it was safer if no one but he knew. It was hard to stay angry at the sod after that.

But John wished he had known, not that he could have done anything to prevent the crazed consulting criminal from taking the boy, but so he would have understood why Sherlock had been on edge since the night at the pool. He'd know this was going to happen then, and he'd been waiting to receive that message.

"So…" John sighed into the eerie silence of 221B. "…what do we do now?"

They'd travelled home in silence, something not wholly uncommon for them but yet it had felt anything but natural. John had wanted to comfort his friend, tell him everything was going to be alright, that they'd find Merlin. Instead he'd just sat there staring out the window while the world sped by with a feeling of complete defeat. Now it was going to be a waiting game, waiting for the madman's next move. John just hoped that it wouldn't be the body of a nineteen year old with dark hair and blue eyes being left on their doorstep.

"We wait. - We work. - and we…."

_Hope_. The word hung unsaid in the air between the two friends.

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><p><strong>THANKS FOR READING AND REVIEWING :) Please keep them coming I love to read what you think.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: hot and heavy chapter, think this earns my M rating. **

**Warning: Male/Male slash, don't like, don't read. Do like? Then I hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE<strong>

It was almost three days before Merlin was able to do anything more than moan and sleep. And after three days, Arthur was climbing the walls and would have killed the guy just in hopes of getting some peace. Of course he didn't lay all the blame on Merlin, only some of it, as he was sure the guy was playing his injury for all it was worth, but he lay the largest amount of the blame at Valiant's feet.

By midday on Saturday, Merlin had dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "That smells good."

Arthur jumped at the sound of the voice behind him, almost knocking the pan off the cooker. "Bloody hell _Merlin_, are you trying to kill me!"

The younger man shrugged. "Believe me, _Arthur_, if I was going to kill you I'd find a better way than hoping me jumping out on you would result in a heart attack." he stated matter-of-factly, falling heavily onto a chair at the kitchen table.

"Yeah, well. - Stop sneaking around like that, it's creepy…" he turned back to the pan. "So, you're finally fit enough to get your arse out of bed."

"Hey, don't bitch at me prat, it was your goons that put me there." Merlin snapped.

Arthur fell silent quickly, guilt clawing at his gut.

"So, what you making?" Merlin asked in a much more pleasant tone.

"Chicken soup." Arthur turned at Merlin's groan. "Something wrong?" his brows furrowed with concern.

"I'm sick to death of chicken soup…" When Arthur opened his mouth to speak Merlin jumped in, cutting him off. "…And vegetable soup, tomato soup, ox-tail soup…. I'm sick of soup in general."

Arthur bit back a laugh, turning to face the younger man full on, his arms folded over his chest and his best bad-ass mask in place. "And what exactly would you like to eat, princess?"

Merlin narrowed his gaze. "If either of us is a princess, it's you." he raked his eyes over Arthur. "What with the perfect skin and hair."

A hot shiver rushed though the blonde's body at the man's travelling gaze, and he blushed just a little at his comment. Straightening his spine further, he took a breath and walked forward towards Merlin, never breaking eye contract. "Are you hitting on me?"

Arthur's words instantly wiped the smug smirk off Merlin's features and had his gaze dropping. "N-no. Please, you're so not my type." he gave a dramatic hand flip, determinedly meeting the pale blue gaze once more. "I don't do arrogant psychopaths who are so desperate for a date they have to kidnap them."

"First of all I'm not a psychopath!" Arthur's hands fisted on his hips. "Second, I get enough dates thank you very much, and I didn't kidnap a single one."

Merlin scoffed a little at how easy it was to get a rise out of Arthur, he actually enjoyed it, which was crazy right? After all, this guy was holding him hostage. What made everything so much more insane was the way he wasn't in the least bit scared. He should be scared, terrified even, he knew that but there was something about Arthur that made him forget he had been kidnapped for some unknown reason. As Arthur continued to glare at him, Merlin had a bad feeling he might very well be ill, psychologically. He knew all about it after all, he was studying it at collage. The idea that he might fall victim to Stockholm syndrome was terrifying and exhilarating at the same moment.

"Are you alright?" Arthur suddenly said, his indifferent mask slipping to reveal real concern. "You look pale. - Well, paler than usual."

Merlin swallowed. "I - I'm fine. - Just hungry…" he sighed. "…I think the soup's burning."

"Shit." Arthur dashed away.

~ **MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

They sat eating their soup together, across the table from one another. Arthur laughing every time Merlin winced on taking a mouthful of the soup he hated. Merlin tried to ignore Arthur. After his revelation a few moments ago he'd felt increasingly uncomfortable in the man's presence. But as much as he tried to ignore him, tried to distance himself from his captor, he wanted to look at him, wanted to push his buttons…wanted to argue.

Finally he gave in to temptation, he was screwed anyway, he may as well enjoy it. "So, are you going to tell me yet?"

Arthur frowned across the table, leaning back in his seat. "Tell you? - What?"

"Why I'm here?" Merlin stirred his soup in a desperate attempt to avoid eating it.

"I've told you already, I don't know." Arthur huffed.

"Yeah right. - You're just following orders from some unknown person."

Arthur didn't answer, dropping his gaze to his own unfinished bowl. Frustrated, he got to his feet and carried the bowl to the sink. He stiffened slightly as Merlin reached past him, with his own bowl. He could smell the antiseptic he'd used that morning to clean the head wound. Gripping the sink with both hands he let his head drop forward.

"I… I really wish I could tell you why you're here Merlin, honestly I do, but I haven't been told and no matter how many times I ask I won't be."

Merlin lent against the kitchen counter at Arthur's side, watching his profile as he hung his head. Was that shame he saw? "Why are you here?"

"I told you or…"

"Orders, I know. I mean why are you doing this? Kidnapping."

Arthur remained still, his head spinning at the question no one had ever asked before. A question he hadn't even asked himself and one he didn't know the answer too. So he shrugged and sighed. "I don't know."

He shivered at the touch of Merlin's hand on his shoulder. Lifting his gaze he met his deep blue one and felt his heart stop and race all at once. They just watched each other for a second, both weighing up the others next move more than their own. Neither knew who made the first move and neither cared, the only thing they could think about was the taste of each other's mouths and the feel of their bodies pressed together.

The kitchen was still but for the figures that stood excepting what fate had handed them.

~ **MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

The blanket that had been wrapped securely around Merlin's shoulders slipped from his slim body to pool on the floor, to reveal his half naked form. Arthur's rough hands clawing at the other man's flanks before either of them could think of how wrong this was. He tugged roughly to close the gap between their bodies. Their mouth's devouring each other in a desperate rush of desire and need, their hearts pounding frantically against one another.

Merlin's finger combed through Arthur's short blond hair, gripping tight as if his life depended on it, his hips pressing forward, his moan vibrating though Arthur's chest as the blond slid his leg between Merlin's, giving the man the friction he craved. Arthur's full lips tearing themselves away from the delicious swell of Merlin's mouth to bite a trail down the expanse of his neck, reaching the join he sank his teeth into the muscle, hard enough to bruise but not break the pale delicate skin while his hands moved from Merlin's waist round to his backside. Squeezing hard and calling forth a deep lustful cried from his dark hair partner. Though whether the cry was a result of his hand or his teeth Arthur would never know.

With the cry still ringing in his ears Arthur slipped his hands beneath the white fabric of Merlin's underwear, tightening his fingers into the smooth solid muscle once more, his un-kept nails biting deep, before pushing down the boxers to reveal Merlin's eager hardness. He pulled back, glancing down at Merlin's nakedness with a satisfied lopsided smirk and heavy eyes. He chuckled at the bright crimson stain on Merlin's breathtaking cheekbones. "Awww, don't blush princess…" Arthur teased seductively. "…you're gorgeous." before the words had even full left his lips, he was kissing him again. A deep dirty kiss filled with promise.

Merlin gasped at the rough way Arthur lifted him on the kitchen counter. Everything about Arthur was rough, from his lips and voice to his hands and attitude and Merlin had to admit that he liked it, probably more than he should. The smooth wooden surface was cold against his naked arse and he couldn't help his hiss of complaint. Arthur simply smiled wickedly into his deep blue eyes, stepping forward to stand between his knees and whispering into his ear.

"It'll warm up quick." his tongue sweeping briefly over the shell of Merlin's ear, making his shiver with anticipation.

A small voice in his mind screamed that he had to stop this, that what he was feeling wasn't real, but his body knew it was already too late, a statement proven true as he watched a head of thick blond hair descend onto his throbbing hard erection. He gasped, moaned and sighed as he felt the warmth of Arthur's mouth take him whole, his head falling back and connecting with the cabinet behind. A painful hiss escaped his lips.

Arthur stood up instantly, his gaze filled with concern. "You alright?" he asked breathlessly with damp lips.

"F-fine." Merlin panted his racing heart and desire stealing his breath. "Now…" he fixed Arthur with a hard, lustful glare that shone with amusement. "…get back to work!" he ordered cheekily, as if he was the master and Arthur his servant.

Arthur grinned and nodded. "Yes my princess." he laughed, moving back to his previous position, his hand gripping tight at the counter either side of Merlin's trembling thighs. Before he lowered his mouth once more, Arthur glanced up through his lashes to meet his partner's heavy gaze. "Be careful okay." he said gently and very seriously.

Merlin's lips pulled into a soft reassuring smile and he nodded, his fingers running gently through the blond stands for a moments, before gripping tight and forcing the man's head and mouth back down, a fresh moan of excitement and pleasure falling from his parted lips.

Merlin was much more careful not to hit his head when his climax came, which was a miracle with the way his body was shake and his mind frozen. A thorough cry of "Arrrthurrrr!" ringing out so loud it probably echoed around the surrounding valleys.

He exploded in a way he didn't even think possible, panting and screaming. And Arthur took it all like a man trapped in a desert and desperate for water. He didn't pull away, much to his own amazement, because that was his usual routine, but the feel of Merlin's trembling body, the taste of him on his tongue and the sound of his name being cried out in that deep husky voice had Arthur there till the last drop slide over his taste buds.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead on Merlin's sweat covered thigh and panted, the other man's finger stroking absently through his hair. Both of them fully aware they'd just dug themselves into an inescapable hole. - Yet neither particularly caring.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and review. Please keep them coming :D<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter :(**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>

It had been almost three weeks since their return from Cardiff, in that time there hadn't been a single word or message from Moriarty and they weren't any step closer to locating the teenager. John watched Sherlock at the table in the kitchen that was his lab. He was fussing over some experiment or other. Over the past three weeks Sherlock had thrown himself deeper and deeper into his work and research. So much so John had found himself being dragged all over the place, investigating anything and everything from vanishing glow in the dark rabbits and gigantic hounds to red haired men and phantom cyclists.

John hadn't complained, he figured his friend needed to stay busy but after John had had to pull him out of the firing line four days ago, he'd become increasingly concerned for the consulting detective. He was taking dangerous cases, the kind he never would have before. He wasn't sleeping. Well, alright Sherlock rarely slept but of late it had become a far rarer occurrence. The dark rings beneath his eyes were clear to everyone, and he wasn't eating, something that had begun to improve with John's arrival but since the disappearance of Merlin had once again slipped back into the old routine, like sleeping, of being almost none existence.

The worst part was the younger man had become withdrawn, especially in relation to John, and that hurt. During all of this Sherlock hadn't mentioned Merlin once, as if by not mentioning him he could once again pretend the boy didn't exist, and if he didn't exist Sherlock was under no parental responsibility to find him. John knew he was being unfair but he couldn't help it.

He paced the small kitchen, looking from his feet to Sherlock, who seemed to typing at his laptop while simulations dropping dangerous chemicals into a beaker. His faced drawn into a mask of total concentration. With a huff of frustration the doctor decided he'd had enough. Stopping mid stride he turned to stare at the detective. "That's it. Sherlock stop!"

The man ignored him.

"Sherlock! Stop!" John yelled, his hand slamming down on the table.

Sherlock's blue gaze shot up to meet the other man. "John! Please be careful, I am handing very dangerous chemicals!" His face was filled anger, something that had seemed to replace John as his constant companion.

"I've had enough Sherlock. I've been patient, I've been understanding and supportive but enough, you can't keep hiding behind your work."

"I am not hiding John, I am simply working. It's what we get paid for."

John let out an irritated huff. "You're not taking these cases to earn money, you're taking them to distract yourself and it had to stop. Now!"

Sherlock didn't even try to play dumb or innocent. He just met his friends gaze straight on like a man facing down a speeding train.

"You haven't even tried Sherlock. Not since Cardiff." John voice was hard and filled with irrational anger.

"I have done all I can John." Sherlock met his tone equally. "There is no sign or clue where Moriarty has him. He'd vanished, Moriarty won."

John swallowed hard at the defeat in his flat-mates voice and eyes. Sherlock had thought himself unbreakable till Moriarty had shown him otherwise. "You haven't even tried Sherlock, you've just given up."

"What would you have me do John? Search the country from Land's End to John o'Groats by hand?"

"Yes! If necessary, this is your _son_ Sherlock, your own flesh and blood. I know you can be a heartless unfeeling bastard but surely that means something. – Anything?"

Sherlock glared at his friend, his lips pulled in a thin scowl. _How dare he. He has no idea what I'm going through_. The consulting detective leapt from his seat, knocking the table dangerously as he stormed into the living room, John on his heels.

"Don't you dare walk out on me!" John yelled. "We're talking."

Sherlock swung around to stare down his nose at the doctor. "We have already discussed this John."

"No Sherlock, we have not. What we had wasn't even a two sided conversation let alone a discussion. It was me questioning you about the investigation into your son's kidnapping and you ignored the issue completely before going out and almost getting yourself killed tracking a team of Russian mob types."

Sherlock continued to glare, his jaw clenched tight. John didn't understand. He couldn't this wasn't just about Merlin, it was about his inability to think, to reason where the consulting criminal had hidden his son, it was about being unable to put everything he knew to any use. - It was about losing his only link to Hunith and breaking the promised he'd made her.

"Fine." Sherlock all but growled. "What do you suggest I do oh wise one." He was being childish because the alternative was too hard to contemplate.

"Get some help."

Sherlock smirked disparagingly. "Therapy? That's your great solution."

"No, Sherlock. Help from Lestrade or better yet Mycroft."

Sherlock stiffened, lifting his chin high. "No!"

"_Sherlock_." John groaned, as the man was turning away. "Stop being a stubborn prideful bastard and talk to Mycroft. He's your brother, he'll help we both no he will."

"No!" Sherlock repeated, lifting his violin and bow, pulling it across the stings. Before the note was even dead in the air, the bow was being snatched from the detective's hand. "John!" he snapped, blazing eyes burning into the shorter man.

"He's your son Sherlock! You can't swallow your foolish pigheaded pride for the sake of your son?" John was yelling again, waving the bow dangerously in front of the detective.

The taller man ripped the thing from his friend's fingers violently, staring daggers at the older man and purposely drawing the bow over the strings to create a high pitched squeal. John shook his head and stormed around the room.

"You're really going to let a childish feud with your brother threaten the life of your son? Your know something Sherlock Holmes; you're the worst kind of bastard. Greg is completely wrong, you're not a great man and you'll never _ever_ be a good one."

Sherlock stopped playing as he heard the slam of the living room door, so hard it made the walls shake. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, listening to his pounding heart, waiting to hear the slam of the street door that never came.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing :D I love you all.**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Figuring John hadn't left but instead stormed off to his room; Sherlock took the time to relax. With his violin and bow hanging from his fingers, he fell limply into his grey leather chair. Slouching down in the seat he allowed his head to fall back as he closed his eyes to breathe, a fresh wave of pain shooting through his chest, his mind filling with images, his long career helping provide, of his son in a billion different and horrific situations.

John thought he didn't care, that he would allow his own pride to risk the life of his child. Did the man not know him at all? _You've never giving him any reason to think otherwise_. His subconscious provided. Surely the man should know him better by now, should show the faith he expected to receive. Could he not see how the waiting, the uncertainty was destroying him. Could he not see that he was losing more than just Moriarty's game?

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

John fell back against the wall in the hall, forcing steady breathes into his lungs, his hands were shaking; in fact his whole body was shaking. The anger rippling thought him in a way he had never felt before; he could actually feel tears burning behind his eyes. Sherlock had said during Moriarty's last path of destruction that heroes didn't existed, and that if they did he wouldn't be one of them. But John had never believed that. Sherlock was a hero, in his own way. He saved lives; he put the bad guys away. Hell, when he was storming around the flat in his blue dressing gown he looked like one. But now John's hero was falling right before his very eyes. He was being stubborn and selfish and the worst father imaginable. John had expected better from the man. He'd wanted better from the man.

John closed his eyes and let his head rest on the wall behind him, a thick block of dark stained wood separating him from the man he thought of as a friend. It hurt him more than he could say to think of Sherlock for all intents and purposes was allowing Moriarty to win. John was sure that if Sherlock really, really tried he could do anything. He could find Merlin. All it would take was one phone call to Mycroft.

John weighed up making that call himself. He knew it would be breaking his friends trust but there was a young man's life at stake. Surely Sherlock would forgive him. - Though whether John could forgive Sherlock was a whole other question.

Suddenly determined to take the wheel of the abandoned investigation into the kidnapping of Merlin Emrys, John straightened and turned back to the door, thrusting it open he marched in, spine straight, shoulder pulled back, looking every bit the soldier.

And he froze dead.

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

Sherlock's body was subtly trembling as it half lay slumped in the leather chair, the precious violin dropped carelessly at its side; the sunlight from the window directly behind the detective highlighted the glistening damp on his prominent cheekbones. The sight left John speechless, motionless and racked with guilt. He'd never seen Sherlock cry, hadn't even thought it was possible if he was honest. After all you need to have some semblance of emotional depths.

He hated himself on the spot. He'd begun to pass Sherlock off as everyone else did, as an automaton who cared for nothing but the next puzzle, but he did care. Thinking back John had always known he cared. It had been small almost invisible displays but they'd been there. The cold heartedness was a mask he wore for whatever reason to protect himself. - Probably to avoid growing attracted to people, not wanting the pain that came with being left behind or abandoned. John wondered if it went back to Hunith Emrys.

John could kick himself at just how obvious it all was. His sudden clarity into the man rather than the detective had his heart clenching tight, the anger fading to nothing. _I'm the worst friend in history_.

"Why do you care?" Asked the strained voice of Sherlock out of nowhere.

John jumped a little; it took him a few seconds to compose himself before answering. "Because I always care. - Because there's a kidnapped boy out there somewhere."

Sherlock turned to stare at John and the doctor could finally see the redness surrounding his unique blue eyes.

"No. You are more emotionally involved in this case than is necessary. Why?" Sherlock's tone was cool and clinical, just as it always was, except for the slight hitch every once and a while.

John sighed, glaring at Sherlock in that you-see-everything-and-nothing way of his. "Because he's your son."

"So?" the detective sighed in reply.

"Because I care about you, so I naturally care about him, that's just how it is." John was growing frustrated again. That was one of the intriguing things about life with Sherlock, you could be feeling sorry for him one second and wanting to push him from the top of a building the next.

"So, concern by association." Sherlock murmured. "It's not real concern."

"Sherlock!" John snapped. "It is very much real. I'm concerned that Moriarty's out there. I'm concerned that he has Merlin somewhere, probably in fear for his life, wondering if anyone is even looking for him." John grew more agitated by the second. "But yes, alright, my greater concern is you. How this whole thing is affecting you. - And it is affecting you Sherlock."

There was a thick silence. John watching his friend intently, while Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, his body finally calm and still.

"He can't help." Sherlock finally said, so softly it was practically a whisper.

"What?" John frowned. "Who?"

"Mycroft. - He can't help."

John rolled his eyes. "You don't know that Sherlock, ma…"

"I do actually." The detective said, turning his red eyes on his friend. "I went to him when we got back from Cardiff."

"You…You did? - Why didn't you say anything?" John gapped at the slouching man.

"There was no point, he doesn't know anything. He can't help. - He tried. Moriarty's covered his tracks completely."

John dropped down onto the sofa as his legs gave way under him. Mycroft was their last hope. "How can he not know anything? He's Mycroft. He always knows something."

"Because much as it pains me to say it, Moriarty is better."

"Than both of you combined?" John sounded unconvinced.

"So it would seem."

John's head fell into his hands, tears burning behind his eyes for a reason he couldn't fathom. They were lost. There was no hope of finding the boy now.

"So we must wait until next Thursday."

John's head shot up with confusion. "Next Thursday? What's so special about next Thursday?"

Sherlock looked at him a little insulted and hurt. "It's my birthday John. No doubt Moriarty will have something in mind."

John stared. _Sherlock's birthday. Dammit. I forgot_. Though in his defense he had had other things on his mind. He stared at his friend with painful acknowledgement, both hoping beyond hope that the madman's birthday gift wouldn't be Merlin's dead body.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Please keep them coming, I love to hear how you think its going. **


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"Bored." Merlin sighed from the window seat, looking out over the endless green for the fifth day in a row. "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored…" he sung till the word lost all meaning. "…bored, bored, bor…oaf."

The heavy cushion caught Merlin right in the side of the head. "Ouch." he complained rubbing where the blow had landed. "Hey, head injury over here Prat."

"You're lucky it was a cushion then aren't you." Arthur snapped, lying back on the couch, turning his attention back to the book he'd had the good sense to bring with him.

"I'm just so _bored_." he whined, smirking when Arthur shot him a warning look. "What?"

"You say it one more time."

"What?" Merlin paused, feigning innocence. "Bored?"

Another cushion flew through the air, only this time Merlin was prepared and ducked. "Huh, missed."

Arthur waved his book. "Next one won't." he warned.

"You wouldn't throw that." Merlin challenged.

"Try me idiot."

The two sent challenging looks at one another for a few moments before Merlin surrendered. "Find. - It's just that I'm soooo…." Arthur raised a brow, waiting for the infuriation word to leave his lips. "Fed up."

"Then I don't know, read."

"I'm to bo…fed up to read."

Arthur groaned, sometime he really was babysitting. "Then go for a swim."

Merlin looked out the window. "Are you crazy? It'll be freezing out there."

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh. "I don't know. - Go clean the toilet." he smirked at Merlin's disgusted face, as he huffed indignantly and turned back to the view.

Dropping his book on his chest, Arthur watched Merlin sigh and stare aimlessly out of the window. He still couldn't believe he'd done it. Fallen into bed with a guy he was supposed to be watching. The guy was meant to be his hostage, not his lover. It wasn't the done thing. - But since that afternoon in the kitchen a few weeks ago they hadn't stopped. It was like some kind of weird cosmic forced was controlling them, drawing them together.

It wasn't just physical either. If it had been it would be simple, he could stop but it was far from simple. Not only did Arthur want to touch, kiss and shag Merlin senseless, he wanted to fight with him, bitch at him, be teased and tease the raven haired beauty in return and it all felt completely natural, like they'd known each other forever. Merlin got away with doing and saying things that no one would ever be allowed to and he had the very disturbing feeling that he might just be falling for the idiot, which opened up a whole new can of worms.

"What are you staring at?" Merlin suddenly asked, derailing Arthur's train of thought and forcing him back to reality.

"Just thinking."

"About?" Merlin narrowed his gaze suspiciously at the blond, when Arthur was thinking, it never ended well….. Actually that wasn't true, Merlin admitted, it _always _ended very well.

Arthur's lip twitched. "Well I was thinking that if you're that bored." he wiggled his brows. "You could always come over here and blow me."

Merlin's eyes widened in disgust and horror. "You're a fowl mouthed oaf Arthur." but even as he was saying the words, he was strolling determinedly towards the man, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it haphazardly on the floor, before straddling the man's hips and leaning down to press a hungry kiss to Arthur full pouting mouth.

"I b-believe I said…"

"Oh, shut up Prat." Merlin whined, dropping another kiss on Arthur's mouth, before sliding himself down the larger man's body, pressing opened mouth kisses as he went.

Arthur's head dropped back and his eyes fell closed as he gave himself over to Merlin's ministrations. He had to admit the boy knew some impressive tricks with that sharp tongue of his and soon Arthur was groaning and yelling the other man's name at the top of his lungs, his fingers clutching cautiously into the raven hair as if it was his only lifeline.

"Oh my gooooodddd! Do-don't…. st-stop….No… Don't stop!"

With Merlin's mouth working its magic it wasn't a surprise to either of them that Arthur shot his load almost before Merlin could get really into the swing of things. Once the slightly older man had come, he pulled Merlin up his body and devoured his mouth, savoring the taste of himself amongst the heat. The pair lay together on the sofa, Arthur playing with Merlin's too long hair as he rested against his chest.

"Still bored."

"Hmmm, nuh. - Tired though."

"Then have a sleep, so I can have some peace to read." Arthur laughed softly, reaching over the side of the couch and retrieve his book.

He was half way through a paragraph when Merlin spoke.

"Arthur?"

"Uh." The blond's soft blue eyes still fixed on the page.

"You know we've been here three week…"

"Yeah." still not looking up.

"…And I know nothing about you." Merlin's voice was gentle.

"I wouldn't say nothing."

Merlin shifted so he could look up into the man's eyes. "Nothing real, nothing important."

"I'm trying rather hard not to be insulted here Merlin." He smirked.

"I'm being serious Arthur. I don't know anything about you. - I don't usually sleep with guys I don't know anything about, I don't like it. It feels wrong."

Arthur finally dropped his book and looked down into Merlin's deep blue gaze. "So you sleep with a lot of guys you know then?" he couldn't keep the sting out of his voice.

Merlin smirked. "You jealous?"

"No!" Arthur said defensively. "Just wondering if I'm going to be needing a trip to the sexual health clinic."

Merlin's smile quickly turned into a glare. "I'm not a slut!" he snapped, insulted. "Though it wouldn't surprise me if you were. – Maybe I'm the one who'll be needing an appointment."

"Excuse me? What the hell make you jump to that conclusion?"

"You're an arrogant shit who thinking everyone should fall to their knees and worship you, that what."

"I didn't see you complaining five minutes ago. - Or at any other time over the past three weeks." Arthur said indignantly.

"You're a jerk Arthur." Merlin snarled, rolling off the blond and getting to his feet.

"I'm a jerk? You just called me a slut." following Merlin off the sofa, fixing his cloths as he stood staring at the man's back.

"You called me one first!"

"I did not, I was merely inquiring to your sexual history." he shouted defensively, knowing this pointless argument was quickly growing out of control.

Merlin spun around and stared at him scathingly. "Bit late for that isn't it, after the way we've been going at it."

Arthur blushed at the memory of their early morning romp.

"And you don't hear me quizzing you on your past and I've got far more right too."

Arthur matched Merlin's defensive stance, folding his arms over his broad chest. "How so?"

"Well, the fact I'm even here says you know more about me than I know about you. I'm _your _hostage remember!"

Arthur felt a sting of guilt, unsure why they were even arguing and fearing just where it was going to lead them. "Of course I remember."

"Well then."

"That doesn't mean I know anything about you. I'm just your babysitter."

Merlin glowered at the blond. "Oh right." his hands flew into the air dramatically. "I forgot, you're just following orders. Tell me Arthur was fucking me an order to? Was it your boss's way of keeping me under control? Make sure I don't try to escape. Or maybe it's so when this is over and you get your arse dragged off by the police, I won't give evidence because I'm in love with you?" the raven haired man's face was becoming a dangerous shade of red.

"What the hell are you talking about? No one ordered me to sleep with you, in fact I bloody well shouldn't be, it makes everything a thousand times harder when it ends. And give me just a little credit, I wouldn't sleep with you just in hopes you won't give evidence against me. I don't need to."

"Of course, how could I be so stupid?" Merlin gasped as a realization hit in square in the chest. "You don't need to cause there won't be a trial cause there never going to fine me. - not alive." panic and fear had suddenly taken a vice grip in Merlin. He was shaking violently; it felt like he'd been dragged from an ice lake. Why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he realised where this was heading?

"What? Merlin calm down, that's not…." Arthur was standing toe to toe with him, his arms reaching out to pull the man into a hug, hoping to stop the shaking. "Calm down, I'd never let…"

"Get off me." Merlin yelled, pushing Arthur's arms away and taking a few steps back. "I know what's going to happen to me. I know how this is going to end. I'm not an idiot." he couldn't breathe, tears were pooling in his eyes and his head was spinning. "Oh god, I'm going to die here and no one's going to know, no one's going to care. Oh god Gaius, he'll never know what happened to me."

Arthur was getting really worried now; the man had gone from blazing red to deathly white in less than a split second. He was growing unsteady. Arthur felt his heart race as he watched the younger man break in front of him. What had begun as a silly childish argument had quickly turned into a serious nervous breakdown and the worst part was he couldn't do anything to stop it.

He tried to touch Merlin again, softening his voice as he repeated that he needed to breathe, but once again Merlin fought him off, anger, panic and hurt battling in his deep blue eyes. Then his legs finally gave way and Arthur had to move quickly to catch him before he hit his head on the corner of the fireplace.

"Dammit Merlin." Arthur whispered, cradling the man's head close. "I swear I won't let anything happen to you." He pressed his lips to the raven hair and closed his eyes, feeling tears slipping from beneath his lashes. Finally realizing just how screwed he was.

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><p><strong>AN: Ok, so I'm not very good at writing arguments, I'm worse at them than at sex scenes, but I worked on the bases that under the right or in this case wrong conditions a small teasing argument can be blown out of all proportion, allowing underlining issue to bubble to the surface and with Merlin and Arthur trapped in close quarters for so long and Merlin never really allowing himself to think about his situation it was only a matter of time before things back to a head. So I hope this scene isn't too confusing but from experience arguments don't general make much sense.**

**And as for Merlin being BORED, well like father, like son (lol)**

**Thanks for reading and review. Please keep them coming. **


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked, brushing at the dark mop of hair as Merlin's eyes fluttered open. "Merlin?"

It took the younger man a few moments to focus but when he final did he just stared at the concerned blue eyes and worried pout.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur asked softly, but there was no answer. "Merlin? - Come on."

Merlin turned away from his blond kidnapper, burying himself against the back of the tattered sofa, tears blurring his vision, his body drained of all energy and his heart feeling like it had been ripped still beating from his chest. What had he been thinking, why hadn't he listened to himself three weeks ago when his mind screamed that he was on dangerous territory? That he was losing the plot completely. He'd told himself that he was a prime candidate for Stockholm. Why hadn't he listened, back away, fought harder to keep their rolls clear.

He knew the answer if he was honest. Something about Arthur answered his prayers and he'd wanted the fantasy. He'd fooled himself into thinking that this wasn't what it was. That they were just a normal couple, buried away in the remote countryside living on love and nothing else. He'd fooled himself into believing the fairytale because he'd wanted it. There were only so many bad dates a person could have and of late Merlin had had too many bad dates.

Was it any wonder he'd given himself over to the fantasy, to Arthur and the romantic ideal that was the bases of so many trashy romances, where the innocent young woman was swept up in a whirl wind of mystery and suspense where the man she hated and should fear was the one that was going to save her and sweep her off her feet. It was a cliché and Merlin had wanted to live it.

And look where he'd ended up, drained, empty and heartbroken because there was no way he was getting a happy ever after. Arthur was his kidnapper, his babysitter and Merlin was sensible enough to know that only a fool would let him go free, and Arthur as much as he hated to admit it wasn't a fool. _No but I am_.

Arthur sighed when Merlin turned away from him. It hurt more than he would have thought possible. "Merlin. - I swear, I won't let anything happen to you." his voice tight with emotions he didn't want to be feeling.

The only sign that Arthur had been heard was the subtle shake of Merlin's shoulders, most probably cause by silent sobs into the back of the couch. Closing his eyes Arthur released a pain huff of air and got to his feet, walking over to the fireplace he ran his hand through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated the feeling of defeat that was swamping him. He should have known it would all crumble to dust. They'd had three weeks of teasing, banter and sex. They'd fallen into a comfortable little domestic life in a world of their own away from reality. Of course it couldn't last.

Now it lay in rubble because a stupid fight had brought long ignored issues to the surface. They should have talking about it earlier Arthur knew, but if he was honest he hadn't wanted to face the reality of their situation. Here in the middle of nowhere with Merlin he could forget what he was, what he did, he was just Arthur.

With another huff of frustration Arthur leant against the cold stone of the fireplace, his head hung low with shame and regret. He knew he couldn't fix what seemed to have been broken between them and part of him thought that maybe it was better this way, that Merlin hating him would make everything easier when the time came to….He shook his head, he didn't want to think about that, mainly because he knew Merlin was right. He knew what the final result would be, what his father's order him to do, he'd always know deep down but he just couldn't bring himself to face it, not then and not now.

He was talking before he even realised it, saying what came to his numb mind. "My mother died when I was born." he said softly, before their fight Merlin had wanted to know about him, he figured now was as good time to give him what he wanted. "I have an older sister called Morgana, she's a bit of a bitch but hey, she's family. I don't get on with my father, I've never been able to live up to his standards." he wet his lips before continuing, not looking over his shoulder.

"I discovered I liked boys as well as girls when I was seventeen. My first girlfriends name was Gwen, we dated for a year. She dumped me for someone else. I've never had a long term boyfriend, or any boyfriend for that matter. I can't stand roast beef. I love strawberry yogurt. I'm allergic to chamomile lotion, which was a real bitch when I came down with chicken pox when I was eight. I love to read, which you already know. I love a good action movie but, and I'll deny this to my last breathe, I love swords and sorcery flicks. I don't have any friends…" Arthur's voice grew tight suddenly having never confessed that to anyone before. "…I hate my job. I have never met anyone as frustrating, fascinating and adorable as you in my life. I hate giving blow jobs, except to you for some unfathomable reason…" his lips twitched sadly. "And I swear to god that when this is over you're walking out of that door in one piece, if it kills me."

**~MERLIN/SHERLOCK~**

Merlin lay staring at the back of the coach, tears burning his eyes. He was still recovering from the panic attack, his body still week and powerless. Arthur's words rang in his ears like air-raid sirens causing his heart to race dangerously. He didn't want to hear this, he wanted to hate the man, wanted to see him as the villain who'd been taking advantage of him.

But who could he do that when Arthur sounded so sincere, when he was telling him things about his life. It was hard to hate anyone whose voice cracked as they spoke.

Merlin wanted to turn around and look at the man, to tell him that it was alright, that they were alright but he couldn't bring himself too. He didn't know if it was the shock or fear or just the realization that he'd allowed himself to slip into a situation that was never going to have a happy ending. Even if Arthur kept his promise and Merlin walked away from this insanity there was no future for them. How could there be?

The knowledge only made Merlin feel worse, he closed his eyes and hoped that the dark would claim him again so he would not have to think about the fairy-tale that had crumbled and slipped through his fingers.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry the chapters so short. Tried to make it longer but it just wasn't working. **


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Arthur stared down from the bedroom window onto the lake side. Merlin hadn't spoken to him since the previous afternoon. He'd withdrawn into himself and Arthur was worried. It wasn't just the silence treatment he was currently being given, or even that Merlin had returned to his own room that night, leaving him cold and sleepless, it was that the man wasn't eating, he'd barely drank a glass of water all morning and he spent hours staring aimlessly out across the water as if expecting someone to emerge from its center.

Arthur folded his arms and bit on his lower lip. He knew what was happening, Merlin had given up and it pained him more than he would ever have thought possible. What was worse though was that he'd always known it would end badly. From the moment his father had told him about the job, Arthur had known that Merlin wouldn't be allowed to just walk away; his father couldn't risk it, which should have kept him away from the younger man, should have stopped him from ever starting this thing. He should have remained detected, heartless and cold, not allowing himself to care. But that had been an impossible task the moment Merlin had looked up at him with those dark blue eyes and asked him why he was there.

Arthur ran his hand across his mouth and continued to watch the man below. He'd meant what he'd said the afternoon before. He would make sure Merlin walking away from this, he just didn't know how. It meant going up against his father and the firm and whoever it was pulling Uther Pendragon's strings. - And even if he had the courage to do that, there was no way out of the valley. They had no car and Arthur wasn't even sure where they were. It wouldn't help them to go walking about in the middle of nowhere. They'd end up getting lost and probably dying from exposure which would defeat the purpose. Their best bet was to stay put and wait it out until his father made his move, then Arthur could fight whoever was sent, which would most likely be Valiant.

Deciding that was their only real option Arthur headed down to try and convince the younger man that he wasn't going to die here, that one day he'd be home with his family. As he walked out into the warm breeze Arthur realised he didn't know anything about Merlin. Did he even have a family? He'd mention a name during his panic attack but he'd also said no one would care if he died. He paused for a few moments, nervous to approach. Merlin was sat on the stony ground, his knees pulled up, rocking back and forth, still staring into emptiness. Taking a deep breath Arthur took the first step forward.

Merlin stiffened when the blond dropped down beside him. It was the only sign of acknowledgement of the other man's presence, the silence stretching between them, becoming an almost physical thing.

"Merlin?" Arthur said softly, watching the sickly pale profile intently. "I meant what I said; you aren't going to die here. I promise I won't let it happen."

Merlin remained silence. He'd stopped rocking and was now like a statue frozen in time.

"I'd take you out of here right now if I could." Arthur continued. "But there would be little point. I have no idea where we are or how to get back to civilization. And I'm not going to just go wondering around these hills hoping we'll find it." he gestured to their surrounding as if to make his point.

"What about the phone?" Merlin whispered scathingly, his voice hoarse from lack of use and hours of cry into his pillow.

Arthur's head snapped around to stare at Merlin, as if it was a miracle for the man to talk at all. It was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever heard, he was sure of that. Finally he realised what the man had said and frowned. "Phone?"

"I'm not an idiot Arthur. I heard you on it the first day I was dragged here. - Unless your crazier than I first believed." There was no teasing or humour in his tone, there was nothing at all in his tone.

Arthur sighed and looked out onto the lake. "It's no use to us." he answered, scratching at the back of his neck.

"What, have you run out of minuets?" Still no humour and it made the blond cringe at the blandness of it.

Closing his eyes Arthur forced back the pain radiation through his chest. "No, it's not that kind of phone. It only calls…. The people I work for." he wasn't ready to confess the truth about his father just yet. "And I don't think they would be prepared to help us." he tried to lighten his voice but found he couldn't.

Merlin fell silent again. A harsh wind blowing in from the east brought the man's scent into his face and his gut tightened painfully. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to breath, trying not to think about how alone he had felt last night. - Or for the years before that.

The pair sat in silence for what felt like eternity before it became too suffocating and painful for Arthur. He had to speak, he had to hear Merlin's voice even if it wasn't the warm teasing voice he'd fallen instantly in love with.

_Love_. The realization hit him like a physical punch, causing him to flinch and rock back a little. He caught the look of concern on Merlin's face before the man forced himself to look back out at the water. He was in _love_ with _Merlin_. He couldn't believe it, couldn't understand how it was even possible. But he knew it was true. His heart was racing; his head began to hurt under the pressure. He loved a man who in all likelihood despised him now, despite the brief look of concern that had flickered in those blue eyes. Arthur stared out across the landscape rocked from the shock, tears burning in his eyes, tears that were rooted in so many complex and tangled emotions that he didn't think he'd ever be able to name.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked, his voice no longer holding that distant tone.

Arthur glanced at him and was saddened to see that though his voice was softer his gaze was not. "Nothing." he replied painfully.

Merlin looked away, his back stiff and his chin low.

What was Arthur meant to do now? Knowing what he knew about himself, realizing that this wasn't a crush or a fling. His mind provided the answer simply and as if it was the most blindingly obvious thing in the world. You keep your promise and keep him alive.

~**MERLIN/SHERLOCK**~

Merlin sat across the table from Arthur staring at a meal he had no desire to eat. He had no desire for anything since his revelation three days ago. All he could think about was how he was going to end his days in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn't even have a funeral because he'd just be another missing person. Gaius will never know what happed to him and Merlin fear what the not knowing would do to the old man.

For the first time he was thankful his mother was no longer around to suffer the agony of never knowing and he was also glad for the first time in his life that he didn't know who is father was, so he would have to worry about how this was going to affect him. It was hard enough knowing how much pain he would put Gaius through.

His mother had rarely mentioned the man and Merlin had always thought that it was because she'd loved him too much and it hurt too much to talk about him. Which of course had led him to wonder, why if she wasn't with him? Gaius had said when asked, that life was complicated and sometimes people fell in love with those they'd shouldn't. He had never understood that before, now sadly he did.

Though as much as he'd never really wanted a father, having Gaius was enough, he couldn't help but wish, just a little, that he had one. If only to know that he was leaving more behind than just Gaius, to have more than one man's tears on his would-be none existent grave. And so he could feel that somewhere someone was worrying about him and desperately searching for him. Because he was sure that by the time Gaius knew he was missing, it would already be too late.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Wednesday night had an atmosphere about it, a feeling of the calm before the storm. Sherlock and John had tried to act as if it was just another day, that tomorrow wasn't important and feared, but there was only so much denial two men could take. They sat together yet apart. Sherlock hunched up in a ball, his knees to his chest, on his leather chair. John sat uncomfortable on the sofa against the far wall, his foot tapping the floor in spasms as the pair watched crappie TV and tried to avoid thinking about Sherlock's birthday and Moriarty, which of course neither of them could do. It was still early, at least by their standards. 10 PM. They were hours away from any sign. The post wouldn't arrive until nine the next morning, which meant they had a very long night of waiting and worrying.

John couldn't help but wonder what Merlin was doing right now, if he was doing anything at all. His insides clenched painfully at the thought that it might already be too late. They knew how sick Moriarty was. He could have already done something to the boy. He couldn't explain why or even when he'd begun to feel such a protective instinct for a boy he hadn't even met. He put it down to his friendship with Sherlock. It had come to feel like what was Sherlock's was his, and vice versa. Their lives had become so interwove that John couldn't even remember what his life had been like without Sherlock Holmes in it.

Sherlock tried to let his mind turn off, he tried hard to just let the ridiculous television show wash his thoughts away but it wasn't working. All his brain could focus on was the morning and what Moriarty was going to deliver. He'd grown more confident that that was what the madman was going to do. Send him something on his birthday; he just feared it would be his son's body. Rationally he knew it wasn't, it wouldn't make sense to do something so dull but it wasn't his rational mind that was working at the moment, it was his parental one. A part of him he hadn't even known existed and hadn't thought he'd ever allow to take over. But here he was like any father, worried for his son. He hated it. He couldn't understand why anyone would willing seek out the pain children brought.

John had told him that they brought more joy than pain and that was way people had them. Sherlock could argue that fact without the relevant data, having never even spoken to Merlin in the boy's life. He's seen him once, at Hunith's funeral, which he'd watched from a distance; a small twelve year old boy with raven black hair and pale skin. He'd felt a twinge in his chest at the sight of the boy crying in an older man's arms. Part of him had wanted to go there and look after him, just as Hunith had asked. But he'd known even then that he was the biggest danger to Merlin. So he'd walked away to keep him safe, to keep his promise the best way he could.

He looked up at the fireplace and heaved a heavy sigh. There were hours before the post arrived, too many hours. With a groan of frustrated Sherlock ruffled his curls and leapt to his feet. Fling off his red dressing gown and marching to the door to grab his coat off the back of the door.

"Sherlock? Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out?"

"Yes. - I need to… get some air."

John understood, the flat felt as if it was trying to suffocate them. Getting to his feet he moved to join his friend.

"There is no need for you to join me John." Sherlock announced blandly.

John stopped and stared wide eyed at the taller man. Sherlock always wanted him to join him. It was part of their routine, Sherlock went out and John tagged along, the fact that now Sherlock didn't want him hurt and John couldn't quite understand why.

"What?"

"You do not need to come with me John. - Why don't you go and see Sarah." Sherlock said heading for the stairs.

John found himself rushing after him, angry and hurt and beyond frustrated with the increasing distance between them. "Sherlock! Stop!" he yelled.

The man paused on the first flight of stairs and looked up at John. "Yes."

John just stared at his friend; taking in the cold blue eyes that where so strange to him. Sherlock had never looked at him like that before. _Never_. "I broke up with Sarah ages ago, which you would know if you weren't so determined to push me away."

"I'm sorry." the detective said softly as he took another step.

"_Stop_!" John ordered in a load booming voice.

"John." Sherlock sighed. "I don't want to talk; I want to leave, so please do me the common courtesy of letting me."

The doctor stared at him as the man continued down the stairs and towards the door. John had a very bad feeling that their friendship was on unsteady ground and he couldn't understand why.

He stood at the top of the flight watching as Sherlock pulled open the door and left, his heart thrashing uncomfortable in his chest and his gut tightened. It wasn't as if Sherlock had left him, he'd be back in an hour or so and they weren't even in that kind of relationship, He was straight and Sherlock was married, albeit to his work. But right now it felt like it did when he got dumped.

John was still staring at the door when Mrs. Hudson's voice floated up to him.

"Oh, Deary, another fight." her voice was warm and understanding as she shook her head. "Do you want to come have a nice cup of tea and a chat?"

John was walking towards the old woman's small flat before he even realised it. Once inside, he collapsed on her sofa and buried his head in his hands. He knew it was the stress, for both of them, and he understood, he really did. But right now he just wished Sherlock would talk to him like he used to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry the chapters so short **

**Thanks for reading though and review **


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Sherlock spent hours just walking, his mind racing in a thousand different direction, though two things were always pushing to the forefront, or more precisely two people. Merlin and John. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day he would have to go through all this again over the doctor. Whether or not Merlin was found alive or more likely dead, Moriarty was determined to destroy him one piece at a time, which meant at some point he'd go after John.

The thought hurt like a burning pain in the center of his chest. He couldn't lose them both, not his son and his best and only friend. As he walked Sherlock came to the conclusion that the doctor would be safer if he cut him loose. But almost at the same moment he knew he was fooling himself, what he meant is it would hurt less if he pushed the man away, because Moriarty would still use John against him. He'd done it with Merlin after all. He'd distanced himself from his son to protect him and it hadn't worked, it had only given Moriarty more ammo. If he'd been in contact with Merlin, if he'd been in the boy's life he could have protected him, warned him.

Sherlock stopped and slumped against a nearby wall, his breath ripping at his lungs as he realised that he'd made a mistake. Him? Sherlock Holmes. _Don't pretend you did it for him. You didn't do it to protect him; you did it because you didn't want the responsibility_. His mind snipped and Sherlock's heart tightened under the truth. He could tell himself he'd done it all to protect Merlin, but it wasn't true. He hadn't wanted to be a father, he wasn't meant to be. He was meant to just live his life and play the game. The game had been all that matters. A child would have interfered with that, would have made it impossible to live for the buzz.

When Hunith had made him promise to look after their son, he'd hated her for it. He hadn't wanted a son or the responsibility, but he couldn't deny her last wish. So he'd agreed and then convinced himself that the safest place for the boy was as far away from him as possible. To his anti-social mind he'd kept his promise to Hunith while keeping his chaotic dangerous life. For seven years he'd believed he was doing the right thing and he'd never felt an inch of doubt or guilt about it.

Then John had marched, almost literarily, into his life and changed him in a way he didn't think possible. He'd found himself wanting to live up to the man's high standards, while at the same time seeing that he excepted him for what he was. As they worked together, Sherlock found that the man was slowly opening the floodgates, his other relationships - Mycroft, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. - all altered under the changes John had awakened in him. He was politer, softer, nicer. John was changing him into a better man and neither of them even realized it.

But the improvements in his personality had awakened a part of him he truly hadn't believed existed. Guilty. His guilt over Merlin had become worse over the past year and Sherlock had found himself trying to make up for the terrible way he'd behaved towards his son the only way he could, but throwing money at him. He'd begun to send Merlin an allowance in the guise of a small windfall from an unknown relation; he'd pulled strings to get Merlin into the university course he'd wanted, even resorting to blackmail. He wasn't the best father in the world, but then he hadn't had a particularly good role model had he.

With his back against the wall Sherlock forced himself to breath. Once he was sure he'd regained his equilibrium, he turned back in the direction of Baker Street. He had to talk to John, apologize for walking out on him as he had done. He'd heard the hurt in the doctor's voice and the worry but he'd ignored it, only caring about his own pain and concern. It wasn't fair he knew, especially when John had stuck by him though so much, seen him through this whole situation without complaint. - Well, much complaint.

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

Sherlock had barely closed the door to 221B when Mrs. Hudson was on him with a glare that would put most criminals to shame.

"How could you Sherlock?"

He instantly knew what she was talking about, her stance; the hurt betrayed look on her face just like the one John had worn when he'd told him about Merlin.

"How could you not tell me?" she sniffled.

They all knew that Mrs. Hudson had become like a mother to the pair of them, especially Sherlock, who'd known and loved her for almost four years.

He glanced over her shoulder to see John stood in the doorway of her flat, a mixture of triumph and guilt etched on his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man.

"You are terrible at keeping secrets John, has anyone ever told you that." he said blandly, though a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"I needed to talk to someone, as you seem determined to ignore and push me away." the doctor's tone matching the detectives.

Sherlock's smile vanished in a second, but he maintained eye contact. "I'm sorry John. - I've been…" he shook his head.

John as always understood what the man couldn't voice and gave a brief nod.

"And what about me?" Mrs. Hudson whispered indignantly, her hands pressed to her chest, tears swelling in her eyes. "I thought I was more than just your landlady, Sherlock. I thought…" she sniffled. "I thought..."

The smile returned to Sherlock's lips, warmer and softer than before, his arms wrapped around the hurt older woman, pulling her into a hug. "You are." he whispered. "You're also my housekeeper." he chuckled.

Mrs. Hudson pulled back and swiped at his arm. "I'm being serious Sherlock." she snapped, though his gaze held less pain. "How could you keep something so important from us?"

"I told John weeks ago." he answered matter-of-factly. "If I had, he couldn't have told you."

"Sherlock." John warned from the doorway. "Stop being an arse. You know full well Mrs. Hudson's upset at your lack of trust in her. And she has every right to be."

Sherlock looked from John to Mrs. Hudson. "I know, I'm sorry." he sighed sadly. "I have no defense for my actions."

Mrs. Hudson looked at him with a forgiveness only a mother could give. "It's alright, just don't do it again Sherlock."

"I will try not to keep any future children's existence from you." he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and his voice was not as light as he'd intended.

Mrs. Hudson rubbed his arms. "Come on, Deary, I'll make you some tea."

Sherlock took a couple of steps forward when his phone rang. Fishing it out of his pocket he looked at the screen. **Lestrade**. In the corner he noticed the clock.

00:00. Midnight.

_Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes._

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><p><strong>AN: Well, how was it? Touching enough. Poor Sherlock, we all know he's not as cold and distant has everyone thinks. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope to have a new chapter soon. Fingers crossed. **

**Still not whole sure if this is going to work out the way I planned. It seemed so easy in my head. But then most things do right? Anyway, See you again soon. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Rather a short chapter, sorry. Of course, my chapters aren't known for their length now are they rofl. **

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<strong>

Sherlock held the phone to his ear, his gaze locked on John as Lestrade told him he was needed at the morgue. That something had been delivered with his name on it. He felt his heart slam against his ribs; his lungs stop working and the bottom fell out of his stomach. He could feel himself shaking and the worried look on Mrs. Hudson's face told him she could see it.

"We'll be there as soon as we can." Sherlock answered coldly before hanging up the phone.

John rushed forward. "What is it?" worried drawing lines on his face.

"The morgue..." he inhaled sharply, as if his brain had just remembered it needed oxygen. "I believe my birthday gift has arrived." he swallowed and John's hand shot out to steady him before he even knew he'd began to waver.

"I'll call Mycroft." John said with concern, his hand still holding up a slightly unsteady Sherlock, his own features pale. Seeing the detective unbalanced and deathly white was the most unsettling and terrifying thing in the world. Sherlock Holmes was meant to be untouchable. - If only the world knew how wrong that conclusion was.

"No. - I'll go alone."

"Like hell. You're not dumping me this time Sherlock, and Mycroft has a right to know, it's his nephew we're talking about."

Sherlock seemed unable to focus on what John was saying, which sent a chill down the doctors' spine. Pushing it aside, he found that for once he had to be the strong one. The focused one, turning to Mrs. Hudson he gave her a small smile, before pushing Sherlock towards the door, grabbing his jacket off the banister as he went. He went to get his phone from his pocket only to realize it was upstairs.

"Stay here. I'm going to get my phone." John took half the steps two at a time then stopped to look back at Sherlock, then Mrs. Hudson. "Make sure he doesn't leave without me." the old woman nodded and John carried on up the steps.

He was only gone a few moments before he rushed back down the stairs to find Mrs. Hudson standing, arms folding over her chest in front of the door like a guard at the Buckingham Palace. John would have laughed if it hadn't been such a stressful moment.

Standing beside a frustrated and agitated Sherlock, he nodded. "Alright, let's go. I've text Mycroft and told him to meet us at Bart's. - Thanks Mrs. Hudson. I'll call you when…." he trailed off sadly and the old woman gave the pair a sad smile, her hand brushing Sherlock's cheek.

"It'll be alright dear."

Sherlock acknowledged her words with a brief nod before marching past her and out into the night he hadn't long come in from. He hailed a cab, hearing the front door slam shut behind him.

The journey to Bart's was executed in much the same manner as most of their trips. John staring out the window at the passing city and Sherlock tapping away on his phone or staring out of his own window, this was their routine, this was normal. - What wasn't however was all the unspoken comfort and support that floated between them. The atmosphere was practically crackling with it. So much so, the cab driver felt necessary to comment.

"Lovers tiff?" he said in a rough tired yet cheerful tone.

Neither John nor Sherlock answered the man. For once John didn't care if the world thought he was gay.

"Don't worry, me and the wife have them all the time. Fighting's the best thing for a relationship, keeps it on its toes. - Plus the making up is always worth it."

Sherlock groaned, John huffed and the Cabbie fell silent.

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

The two men arrived at St. Bartholomew at half past midnight to me met by a nonchalant Mycroft and a confused Lestrade. Walking into the morgue they found a body bag on the table with Molly Hopper stood beside it looked besotted as always.

Sherlock's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the black plastic, his hands were shaking so much that he had to hide them in the pockets of his blue overcoat. He could feel John at his side, could sense his equal unease.

"This was delivered here an hour ago with a label saying it was meant for you." Lestrade announced into the thick atmosphere.

"Did anyone see who delivered it?" Mycroft asked in his holier than thou manner.

"No…" Molly murmured. "I just came in and found it here."

Sherlock's gaze examined the bag from head to toe; there was nothing to indicate where it had come from, though he already knew where and who. Stepping forwards his blue eyes followed the zip line to the head were a padlock secured the zips together, insuring that no-one but Sherlock could open it. He swallowed hard as he stared at the lock.

"I'll get someone down to bust the lock." Lestrade said, pulling his phone out.

"Don't bother." Sherlock said in a strained, fearful voice. Stepping closer to the table, he lifted the padlock and stared down at the numbers. Four numbers where all that stood between him and the body hidden beneath the plastic. Four numbers and he'd know if he'd failed to protect his son.

"You know the combination, don't you?" John whispered at his side.

Sherlock took a deep lung bursting breath and felt the shaking of his hands increase. He didn't answer his friend; he simply began to turn the numbers. Simple number, ones that even John would have figured out if he had all the relevant data. - Numbers that had secretly haunted him for years.

**0-4-1-0**

The lock popped open instantly.

John looked up at Sherlock's paler than usual features. "Merlin's birthday?" he inquired.

Once again Sherlock didn't answer. He just stood, staring down at the lock and the zip, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs; he could feel everyone's eyes on him, Lestrade and Molly likely surprised by his reluctance to open the mysterious gift.

"Sherlock?" John murmured at his side. "Do you want me…?"

Sherlock's visible shaking fingers clutched the zip and slowly began to pull it, as it moved a mop of raven black hair was revealed. The detective's leg almost collapsing beneath him but he continued on unheeded.

John groaned, his stomach falling at the sight, tears burning in his eyes. "Oh God."

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry but you know I love a good cliffhanger. So hate me if you must *giggle***

**I just picked a random birthday for Merlin. 4****th**** October. It really doesn't have any meaning. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So did you enjoy my cliff-hanger? No? Why ever not? *wicked giggle* Oh well, here's a new chapter. Tissues ready. ;)**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<strong>

"Oh God."

Sherlock stared at the body for a few long minutes, his heart pounding mercilessly against his ribs and his head abuzz as he took in the scene before him. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to breathe again. Finally he turned on his heels and marched out of the morgue, his brother swiftly following behind him.

John gripped the side of the autopsy table with both hands, so hard his knuckles went white, his head lulling forward as he forced air into his lungs, his eyes stinging painfully and his vision blurred. He looked at the body once more, taking in every feature of the young man's face.

"Who is it?" Molly asked softly, after sharing a confused look with Lestrade.

John didn't answer; he was too busy trying to regain his equilibrium. Straightening up he looked the full length of the black plastic covered figure, noticing a piece of white paper. Reaching in he pulled it free to find it was a card, Sherlock's name printed in thick black letters. His heart skipped at the sight. Taking a deep breath he turned to go after Sherlock, knowing the man would need him.

"John?" Lestrade murmured, worry etched on his features.

"We don't know who he is." John replied breathlessly.

"Okay. Who did you expect it to be?" the inspector's brows furrowing together.

John was a few steps from the door; the card squeezed tight in his hand, his body trembling and his mind a muddle of relief and fear. "Sherlock's son."

"_Son_?" Lestrade and Molly gasped in unison, watching the doctor leave.

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

Sherlock stood in the corridor staring out of the large window onto the car park of St. Bart's. He'd really thought it was going to be him. He'd convinced himself that Moriarty would deliver the worst possible birthday gift and there by he'd prepared himself to see Merlin's cold lifeless body wrapped in that black plastic, so much so that the relief at not seeing his son had stolen all his energy as well as his ability to think. He knew he should be in there searching the body for evidence, Moriarty sent it for reason, but he couldn't bring himself to, he needed to regain his composure.

He sensed his brother behind him but didn't acknowledge his presents. Luckily, unlike with John, Mycroft wouldn't badger him with questions or concerns or comfort. To him emotions were a waste of time and energy. How Sherlock wished he still believed that. He'd had learnt that emotion were an unforgiving force that were impossible to hide from, no matter how much you tried. All it took was one little crack and they were unleashed. John was that crack.

A ripple of guilt rushed though him at the thought. Surely if anyone should have opened him up to the world, it should have been his own flesh and blood, his son not a stranger. But John had never really been a stranger. Almost from the moment they'd met there had been a strong connection between them, a connection Sherlock had never felt with anyone before. - Not even Hunith.

Sherlock became aware of an object in his peripheral vision and turned to see a cigarette being held out to him. He'd stopped smoking over a year ago and was doing really well. He'd even cut down of the patches after John complained that he was going to make himself ill wearing three at a time. But if ever there was a time to smoke, this was it. He took the long white stick between still shaking fingers and lifted it to his lips. Mycroft then provided a light and Sherlock took a deep lungful of nicotine and smoke. He felt the burst of peace rush through him and his brain eased a little. He could breathe again and his heart was slowly returning to its normal pace.

"I take it that is not my nephew." Mycroft said, already knowing the answer but for some reason needing to fill the silence.

"No."

"Any idea who it is?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Just someone confidant." He replied blandly.

Mycroft hummed and fell silent again.

The doors of the morgue opened and Sherlock heard John approached.

"This was in the…. Are you smoking? This is a hospital Sherlock, you can't smoke in here."

"I don't think it's going to harm any of the residence." Mycroft remarked, looking pointedly at the morgue sign.

"It's still illegal." John snapped, stepping to Sherlock side and snatching the thing out of his fingers. "Not to mention bad for your health. - We're going to be back to stage one now." he sighed, stabbing the thing out under foot. "Like your mood swings haven't been bad enough." John sent Mycroft a scowled glance.

Sherlock looked down at his friend, their gazes connecting. For those long few seconds everything was the way it had always been, there was nothing terrible waiting in the wings to destroy their little world. But the moment passed when John remembered the weight in his hands.

"This was in….with the body." he swallowed, holding out the card.

Sherlock's gloved fingers took it cautiously. As he'd done with the father's day card, he turned it over, looking at it from every angle. Finally knowing it would give him no clues, he opened it.

Inside he found just what he'd expected, a birthday card, bright, colorful and obnoxious, just like Moriarty. Again he turned it over in his hands and once again there was nothing special, just another random card brought from a random shop. Inhaling deeply, Sherlock opened it and stared unwaveringly at the inscription.

_To Sherlock, _

_Happy Birthday._

_Hope you liked my gift, just wanted to drop a line to say._

_I OWN YOU._

_M xxxx_

_PS. You have till dawn to find your precious son before he really is the one lying on that slab and as it's your birthday and I'm such a wonderfully generous person I've given you everything you'll need to find him._

_Tick, Tick, Tick Sherlock. _

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><p><strong>AN: Ok so I lied. Tissues weren't needed. I'm somewhat evil that way. Sorry. But really, who honestly thought I was going to kill Merlin. I may be a heartless bitch when it comes to cliff-hangers, but even I wouldn't kill off Sherlock son. - At least until they've had a chance to meet. ;) Course that doesn't mean you're going to get a happy ever after. *wicked grin* Honestly, I'm not even sure where the end will take me. **

**I went with I Own You because I personally think it sounds better and has more meaning. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope to continue to hear from you. **

***hugs***

**GATERGIRL xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Sherlock sat bent over the microscope in his usual lab at St. Barts, picking at the pieces of evidence he'd been able to collect from the body of their John Doe. It hadn't taken him long, it never did. As he'd scrapped mud from the young man's feet he'd given Lestrade everything he deduced from just a single look at the boy. As usual, rolling the information off like he was reading the phone book or the ingredients off the back of the corn flakes box. "19 or 20 years old. Blond hair…" despite its current blackened stated which had clearly been done to spook Sherlock. "…has been living on the streets for at least three years…" while the detective spouted, moving around the body, Lestrade stood silently writing all the information down. John did not. This case was never going to make the blog. "…Not in London. Ran away from an abusive father. Limp; right leg, caused by multiple fractures to the tibia, obvious sustained over several years…."

John frowned at little at the harsh tone in Sherlock's voice. He was never affected by the cases they investigated but John was sure that he could hear anger in that voice and it made his gut tighten. Sherlock Holmes, sociopath was actually having a moment of empathy. If it wasn't such a stressful and sad moment it would almost be amusing.

"…he's been prostituting himself in order to eat, which is probably how Moriarty got him." Sherlock stood back and stared down at the young dead boy. John watched him closely. He could see the pain and relief battling in his eyes, could see the gleam of tears lacing the younger man's lashes. Suddenly Sherlock inhaled and turned to leave. Not saying a word to anyone. John smiled a thank you to Molly and followed after him.

"John?" Lestrade stopped him in the corridor.

"Greg."

Lestrade glanced at his feet then his notebook then down the corridor to where a door swung closed. "How long have you known?"

"A month." John replied matter-of-factly.

"I've known him five years and he never said a word."

John hated the look of hurt in the DI's gaze. "He thought it was best for everyone that Merlin was kept a secret. Not even Mycroft knew, so don't take it personally."

Lestrade nodded. "I don't." he sighed. "It's just…well." he stuffed his notebook in his pocket. "We could have helped sooner if we'd known."

John knew, they both knew, that if Sherlock hadn't been able to find the boy, Scotland Yard had no chance at all.

"I know." John smiled sadly. "But you know what he's like, plays things close to his chest, never lets anyone in."

"Lucky he has you then." Lestrade says and it's not meant in any particular way.

John smiles. "Let me know if you find out who the boy is."

"Will do."

Then John's walked away after Sherlock.

So here they are, alone in the lab, in a deafening silence. Mycroft had left after Sherlock opened the birthday card and they hadn't heard from him since. But that wasn't unusual. John paced back and forth, his arms folded over his chest and his head bowed. He wanted to help, more than at any other time in his swiftly lengthening career with Sherlock, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He was useless and it hurt, so he just continued walking up and down the small white room.

To most this display of nervousness would have been irritating but Sherlock didn't even notice, so focused as he was on his work.

"I don't understand why he's doing this?" John suddenly voiced.

The consulting detective merely continued to concentrate on his investigation.

John turned sharply and leant on the table top, both hands spread flat against the cool surface, staring at his friend. "Sherlock?"

The other man didn't look up from his microscope when he answered. "As he said in the card John, he wishes to show me that he owns me."

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock finally lifts his gaze to meet the concerned and confused blue eyes of the doctor. He doesn't huff or sigh with irritation. He doesn't roll his eyes or call John names. He simply explains. "He is making it clear that the only reason I am going to find Merlin is because he is allowing me to. He wants to show me that he is smarter than I am."

"That he owns you." John nodded slowly. "He holds all the cards." the doctor sighed sadly.

"Yes. - This is his game, his rules and he is allowing me to play and win." He turned back to his work and silence filled the lab once more.

John pushed himself off the table and begins pacing again. Strolling over to the window and gazing out on the swiftly vanishing night. They had till dawn. Glancing down at his watch he saw it was 3AM. Only another three hours. His heart was pounding and every time that thought came to mind it would skip painfully and his gut would tighten. The doctor stood staring aimlessly out of the window for what felt like an eternity. His mind filled with all manner of horrific images. He'd been a doctor and a soldier long enough to have seen enough blood and tragedy for a single lifetime. Add all that experience to a nervous imagination and the results would put most horror movies to shame.

The haunting silence was broken when Sherlock threw back his chair in an act of frustration, a loud echoed moan ringing off the white sterile walls.

John swung around. "What's wrong?"

"There's nothing here."

"Nothing?"

"It's just dirt. There's nothing that indicates where Merlin is. Nothing out of the ordinary." he snapped.

John flinched at the defeated sound that underlined his tone. He hadn't heard that before. Not even during their first encounter with Moriarty four months ago.

"There's no connection between this boy and my…" he swallowed hard. "…Merlin."

"Your _son_." John snapped. His own feelings of concern and defeated stoking an irrational anger. "You can say it Sherlock, it's not a dirty word and it has to be there somewhere. We've only got three hours."

Sherlock's unique blue eyes bored holes into John and he realised he'd said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but then what was new.

"I am well aware of how much time _I_ have John." His tone harsh and unforgiving.

John watched the man's delicate features crumbled under the pressure. Over the past month, that look had become an uncomfortably regular sight. "Sherlock? - I'm…." he sighed and shook his head.

"I've run every test I can think of. There's nothing." Sherlock practically yelled.

John flinched at the sound and stayed silent, now was not the time to argue with the man. Slowly he walked over, standing calmly at the man's side. It didn't take long before Sherlock took that deep inhaled breath and slumped back into his chair.

"There has to be something Sherlock." John repeated with a little more grace. "Something _we_ missed."

The consulting detective stared at clutter on the table, the slides, dishes and cards; blood, hair and dirt. None of it held any clue to where Moriarty was keeping his son. Suddenly a disturbing thought hit him. What if Moriarty had lied? What if none of this held clues? He had wanted to burn him; surely having him chase none existent leads while his son was being held prisoner or worse was already dead would succeed in doing that. Especially when dawn came and another body was delivered to the morgue with his name on it and this time it would not be a fake.

Sherlock knew that would be the first spark on the mad man's mission to burn the heart out of his nemesis. He also knew what the next would be. His head snapped round to find John, somehow needing to reassure himself that the man was still there. Still alive. He found him at his side, looking down at the cards with a frown creasing his sun-worn face. To his surprise his heart skipped at the sight and a rush of calm flooded him.

"Holds all the cards." John murmured to himself, his gaze locked on the card in his hand. "Sherlock…" it was barely a whispered. "Sherlock!" he snapped louder.

"John?" the detective frowned looking across to him with confusion. "What is it?"

John held up the father's day card. "I've seen this."

"Of course, I showed it to yo…."

"No, you idiot I mean I've seen this." he pointed to the landscape picture on the front, the small house surrounded by hills.

Sherlock snatched the card from his friend's fingers, staring down at him. His mind shifting thought a life time of data.

"In a picture at Merlin's flat."

It hit Sherlock light a bolt of lightning and he was rushing out of the lab with his coat his left hand, the card in his right and his friend on his heels.

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><p><strong>AN: John isn't just Sherlock's replacement skull or his sounding board, he's his lightening rod. And our adorable doctor is not a moron people, if he was Sherlock wouldn't put up with him. :D**

**Anyway, thanks for still reading and review. I love to hear from you so please keep them coming. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Timeline note. This scene is taking place at the same time as Sherlock arriving at the morgue to ID the body. **

**Oh and another male/male sexy times chapter. You are warned. **

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SIXTEEN<strong>

The house was filled with darkness and silence and loneliness. Merlin had never felt lonely before. Not even after his mother's death or when Gaius left on his cruise. He'd always had work or friends and the occasional date to keep the feeling at bay. But over the past week that feeling had crowded in on him, wrapping its ice cold tentacles not only around his throat so that he couldn't breathe but around his heart. He'd hoped that they would squeeze so tight that it would replace the pain that was filling him daily.

At first he'd thought it was because of the realization that he was a dead man walking, but once the shock had worn off he'd realised that that wasn't it at all. It was Arthur. Somehow he'd allowed himself to fall for him, ignoring the fact that he was at least partly responsible for his current circumstance. That was what hurt. That he'd given himself emotionally and physically to a man who was likely to turn around at some point and kill him?

Of course Arthur had denied it all. Told him that he wouldn't let anything happen to him, he'd said it countless times, day after day, that it had lost all meaning to Merlin. It was easy to make promised, not so easy to keep them. Arthur had already shown that he was a follower not a leader. He hated his job but he still did it.

Merlin's gaze turned towards the closed door. It hadn't been opened in the last two days. He hadn't left the room and Arthur hadn't come in. He'd knocked, sometimes soft, sometimes hard and brutal, each time with a plea for Merlin to let him in, for Merlin to eat something. - For Merlin to trust him.

But how could he trust him? How could he not trust him? In the last week his emotional had battled over his heart, body and soul like they were flags in a tug of war. One side wanting nothing more than to open that door, eat whatever meal Arthur had made for him and fall into the blonds arms. That was the side that screamed that Arthur could be trusted, that they had something special and rare. While the other side, obviously the stronger side, refused to allow himself to hope. It held his body captive to his bed, waiting for that fateful day when Arthur would come and kill him, hoping to waste away before that happened. That was the voice yelling louder than the other that Arthur was just using him to ease the boredom of this job. That he didn't mean what he said, that he wasn't to be trusted. - That everything he was feeling was psychological. That it was just Stockholm Syndrome, it wasn't real in any way.

But it felt real. The pain, the loneliness, the way his body ached just for a single touch from Arthur's hand. It was the most real thing in the world and if he was going to die anyway then why punish himself? Why deprive himself of the one thing he wanted and needed most? Didn't every condemned man get a last wish? Why was he wasting away in the cold darkness of his room when he could be bathing in the light and warmth of Arthur's touch? So what if it wasn't real, so what if Arthur would break his heart, he'd be too dead to care when the time came.

Staring up at the darken ceiling his mind continued to battle with itself.

**~MERLIN/SHERLOCK~**

Arthur lay on the small double bed that hadn't felt warm or comfortable all week. The book he'd brought with him laying butterflied on the bedside table, forgotten since his argument with Merlin. He'd tried to read, hoping it would distract him from the intense feeling of loss, but every time he tried the words just floated in front of his eyes, making no sense. Much like the situation he'd found himself in.

So with no novel to occupy his mind, Arthur had no choice but to think and that was the worst thing for him, because there was only one thing his mind would allow him to focus on…_Merlin_.

It would killing him slowly watching the young man waste away and give up, especially now he knew his deep feelings for him. It had become worse over the past couple of days. Merlin hadn't just stopped talking to Arthur, or looking at him, he hadn't left his room, hadn't eaten and Arthur feared that it wouldn't matter if his father or Valiant or anyone else came for the younger man, because there wouldn't be anything left to kill.

He'd tried to talk to him, even through the thick wooden barrier of his bedroom door, he'd lost count how many times he'd promised his protection, but there was never any reply, never any acknowledgement that Merlin believed and trusted him. He wondered what the young man's reaction would be if he confessed his feelings. Problem wouldn't believe that either. They were just words after all. Each night it haunted Arthur more and more how they'd gotten to this point. A silly argument meant to be flirtatious foreplay had destroyed the strongest most real relationship he'd had ever known.

He stared up at the darken ceiling and swallowed back the pain, fighting back the tears, his heart tightening beneath his ribs. He was tired, so very tired. His eyelids drifted closed under the weight of that soul eating tiredness. If Merlin was going to allow himself to rot away, then so was Arthur.

"Arthur?"

The voice was all but unrecognizable. Harsh and dry and sounding like gravel. Arthur snapped up in the bed, his eyes wide as he stared at the open door and the pale weary figure, his heart skipping at the sight and a weight easing from his shoulders.

"Merlin?"

The raven haired man took an unsteady couple of steps into the room, his gaze fixed on Arthur. His hard deep blue eyes locked with the slightly older soft blue. Arthur shifted in the bed, his breathing erratic. When Merlin looked ready to fall, he shot out of the bed, catching him around the waste, holding him up.

"Merlin." his breath fluttered against the dark haired man's ear, before turning to bury his nose into the crook of his neck and inhale the scent he'd missed over the past seven torturous days.

Merlin's arms snaked around Arthur's shoulders, pulling his closer, holding on tighter. Tears slipping from beneath his tightly clenched lashes to slid off his skin and onto Arthur's, causing the man to tighten his grasp on Merlin's waist. They stood like that for a while, just holding onto each other, savoring the connection that had been worn down to a single thread after their argument. Finally Arthur pulled back. Taking Merlin's pale, thin and cold face between his hands, he pressed a soft kiss to his crapped unused lips. They trembled beneath his, before opening and pleading for Arthur to deepen the kiss he'd been starving himself of for days.

Arthur's tongue slipped gently over his lovers, drawing it into his own mouth, needing to taste it once more. His fingers sliding up to knot in the raven soft strands of Merlin's hair; cling to it for fear of losing it again. He feels Merlin's own fingers moving over his swiftly heating shoulders, down his muscled defined chest, to bury them into the flesh of his waist, his nails biting crescents onto the surface. Forced to pull apart for air, Arthur took the change to speak.

"M-Mer-lin. I - God I've missed you. So much." Arthur feared the other man wouldn't reply when he just stood there, staring at him.

"I - Me too. Arthur." he breathed, pulling the other man into a devastatingly hungry kiss. "I w-wa-nt y-you Arthur." he growled, forcing the man backwards toward the bed.

Something in Arthur mind screamed this was wrong, but the instant Merlin's fingers wrapped into the waistband of his jogging bottoms, forcing them down off his hips to pool at his ankles, the voice was silenced by hunger and lust and the need to feel Merlin again. They fell backwards on to the bed, Arthur clawing at Merlin's own clothing, stripping it away quickly and without complaint until they were both naked. Flesh to flesh from mouth to shin. Hands stoking, clutching and biting at each other.

Arthur laid back; his shoulders pressed into the mattress as Merlin throw his leg over him, straddling his hips, grinding down till the room was filled with their hoarse moans of pleasure. It was rough and hungry and desperate. No soft words were spoken, no tender kisses exchanged. Arthur knew in his gut this wasn't right but the lustful spell Merlin had cast was just too strong to be denied. So he gave himself over to it. There would be time later for words and kisses.

"Lu-b-e…" Arthur groaned as Merlin shifted himself into a more intermit potion. "Mer-lin, top dra…."

"No." the younger man moaned. "I want to fe-el every-th-ing."

Arthur's soft blue eyes widened in shock and horror. "No, Merlin." He gripped his hip to stop him from moving any further. "Not like tha-at." he said breathlessly. "I w-won't h-hurt you."

Merlin didn't say anything else, he just crashed his mouth down on his lovers, feeding on it till he felt Arthur relax and be consumed by the kiss. Then he shifted once more. Arthur's eyes widened once again in horror as Merlin's head fell back and a cry of pain and twisted pleasure was ripped from his mouth as he impaled himself on Arthur in a single consuming thrush.

"Merlin!" he yelled angrily, but the younger man was too caught up in his own world.

The mixture of pain and pleasure was incredible and Merlin savored the feel of it. Each hiss a proof of life. He was alive, Arthur was making him feel. In the dark there was no past and no threat from the future, it was just them. Merlin increased his pace. Faster and faster, continuing to search for that moment of ecstasy that made all the pain worth it.

Arthur reached his first, much to his shame. He hadn't wanted this, he'd already put Merlin though enough pain without inflicting more but his body was in control and all that he could do was lay back and allow the lust to rule, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He was thankful when he finally came, not because of the release itself but for the lubrication it provided, easing his way. He heard Merlin's moans as he swiftly followed him, his head falling back when he cried out his release. Breathlessly he fell forward onto Arthur. The stickiness of his release pressed between them.

"Thank you." Merlin breathed.

Arthur's face tightened in shame and anger, though whether that anger was aimed at himself or Merlin, he wasn't sure.

His large calloused hand pressed into Merlin's shoulder rolling him off so he could sit up, his elbows resting on his knees and the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, his whole body trembling.

"Arthur?" Merlin frowned, his hand reaching out to touch his shoulder, only to have it shrugged off.

"Why?" Arthur whispered this voice thick with tears.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Merlin started at Arthur's naked trembling back and realization hit him. His heart crashed into his ribs before falling into his stomach. He'd been so desperate to feel alive, to prove to himself that he could still feel, that he hadn't even thought of Arthur or how his actions would affect him. He'd just assumed that sex was sex and he'd be fine with that. But watching those shoulders shake, hearing that pain voice. It hurt to realize that he'd misjudged Arthur. He'd allowed that part of his mind that said he was just a distraction to the slightly older man to take control. Listened to it when it said that he wouldn't care about inflicting pain on Merlin.

"Arthur?" he swallowed, shifting painfully on the bed. "I - I…I didn't think…"

"What?" Arthur turned hard red eyes on him. "You didn't think what!"

Merlin dropped his gaze, tears filling his own eyes. "I just…"

"I know what you just…" Arthur's voice was unsettlingly cold. "You thought I wouldn't care. That just because I'm a criminal, that I don't have anything close to empathy or love. - Well guess what Merlin, I do. I'm not the heartless bastard you've convinced yourself I am. - I don't know how many promises I have to make you to convince you of that." he on his feet, marching over to the chair where his towel from his earlier shower lay. Picking up his cleaned himself, refusing to look at the man who'd cause the mess that coated his flesh.

"Arthur please." Merlin's voice broke. "I - I'm sorry."

Arthur dropped the towel and braced himself against the chest of drawers, his head lulling forwards. "Why Merlin? Why would you do that… to yourself. - To me?"

Merlin had to swallow harder and harder to dislodge the lump in his thought. When it was clear there was no way that the lump was moving, Merlin dropped his head into his hands, his body beginning to shake from the sobs that was rippling from him.

The dark room was silent except for the Merlin's choking sobs. They weren't sure how long they stayed apart, neither speaking nor trying to make eye contact. Merlin weeping guiltily into his hands while Arthur lent against the drawers staring down at his naked body, the nights chill brushing over their flesh.

Finally when Merlin had cried himself out he decided he need to at least attempt to explain himself. "Arthur." he breathed. "I - I really am sorry. I wa-wasn't thinking. I've just be-been so s-scared. I - I don't want to….die." he swallowed the rising pain.

Arthur huffed from across the room but didn't speak.

"I - I know you pr-promised that it wouldn't c-come to that…..but I…."

"Don't believe me." Arthur murmured sadly.

"I don't know what to believe Arthur. I've just been so…."

"Scared, yes you've said." Arthur turned and lent his back against the cold harsh wood, folding his arms across his naked chest.

"Arthur please… you've got to understand."

"I do. I understand, I've understood from the moment you had that breakdown a week ago. I get that it all came suddenly crashing down on you. I get that you've been scared and in shock and unable to see anything beyond that. - I even get that it's blocked out what had begun to develop between us." he ran a hand over his face and neck suddenly feeling too tired for words. "Now you understand something Merlin." his tone harsh and hollow. "I meant the promise I made and I will keep it because as much as you hate me, I don't hate you. I can't hate you." he took a breath.

"I don't hate you Arthur." Merlin insisted.

The blond snorted. "Don't you? - I can't think of any other reason why you would make me endure physically hurting you like I just did, unless it was to punish me."

Merlin shot up off the bed, hissing as the muscles protested at the sudden movement. He fought back the pain, making his way to Arthur, stopping a few steps away from him. "It had nothing to do with punishing you, it had to do with proving to myself that I was alive _now_ and that now was all that mattered. – I was punishing myself for allowing myself to forget what was really happening here. For believing the fairytale." his throat closed around the words. "I a-allowed my m-mind to convince me that you w-wouldn't care, because this wasn't real to you."

"Real? Nothing in my life as felt more so."

"I didn't think. I just followed my fear. - I'm sorry Arthur." he sniffed back more tears.

He wasn't going to crumble. He was stronger than that. He'd done things that would make most people's blood run cold, yet there he was, taking a step towards Merlin, wrapping him in an embrace that screamed forgiveness and protection. His lips brushing the other man's temple and feeling the younger man break once again. Thankfully this time he wasn't pushed away.

Arthur guided them back to the bed, wrapping Merlin in his arms, the man's damp cheek against his shoulder; they just lay there, finally feeling warm and comfortable again. Arthur's fingers brushing through the raven black hair.

**~MERLIN/SHERLOCK~**

They didn't know when they'd fallen into a peaceful sleep or what had pulled them from it, but both men stirred awake. It was still dark but a glance at the clock told Arthur dawn wasn't far away. He smiled into the thick mass of raven hair that lay settled in the curve of his shoulder. He knew Merlin was awake when his fingers began tracing patterns on his stomach, causing the muscles to tighten.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur whispered into the mass of hair.

Merlin turned his lips into the warm flesh he'd missed the taste of, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the solid muscle. "Sore."

Arthur stiffened. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

The younger man lifted himself to meet his lovers gaze. "You have nothing to apologize for Arthur. I'm the one who should say sorry. - I should not have done what I did and I should not have ignored you the way I have this past week."

The backs of Arthur's fingers brushing down his lovers cheeks. "You believe me right? That I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

As if the universe was working on a schedule, there private moment was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle in the distance, echoing off the silent hills. The two men shared a look of concern and fear. Arthur threw off the duvet that he'd pulled over them and leapt from the bed, rushing over to the window. It was still dark but the sky was lightening, dawn pushing for freedom at the horizon. Two bright lights were approaching, shining in the darkness like the eyes of some great beast. Arthur chest clenched tight at the sight. He'd always said the universe had some strange and twisted sense of humour when it came to him and Merlin, this only proved that fact. His gut told him it was not a rescue party.

Turning swiftly he rushed to pull his jeans on, throwing Merlin's own jogging bottoms to him. "Get dressed. Hurry." Arthur dropped to his knees besides the bed, his arm stretching beneath it to pull out a box. Lifting the lid of the small heavy duty plastic, he retrieved the weapon he'd brought with him. Looking up he found Merlin standing on the other side of the bed a look of terror and concern carving a trench between his brows. He heard the car pulling to a stop and he didn't pause, gripping Merlin's wrist painfully he pulled the man after him, down the wooden steps and into the dark and into the kitchen. Yanking open the pantry door, he shoved the dark haired man inside. "Stay in here. No matter what you hear, you stay here until I come for you…." He held out the weapon to Merlin. "…shot anyone that isn't me. Understand. Don't think about, just pull the trigger." He stared into Merlin's deep blue eyes. "Understand?"

Merlin nodded. His heart pounding violently against his ribs, he couldn't breathe for the fear but he could thankfully hear everything Arthur was telling him as he handed him the gun. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Just shoot first okay."

"Arthur." he pleaded breathlessly. "They'll kill you."

"They can try." he pressed a hard promise to Merlin's lip. "You'll be fine, no matter what it takes, you'll be fine." Then he pushed the door closed and turned to the nearby cutlery drawer, collecting a sharp carving knife.

Arthur slid the knife into the waistband of his jean and marching into the living room to await whatever fate had in store.

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><p><strong>AN: sorry it's so short. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love you all. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Three posts in one night. I just couldn't wait to show off this chapter.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<strong>

Arthur stood in the fading dark waiting to face whoever had been sent. When the door swung open far too quietly for his liking, he knew who it was, just who he was expecting his father to send. Valiant looked genuinely surprised to see Arthur stood waiting for him in the living room of the rundown country house. He was dressed for combat, all black and aimed, behind him Leon and Percy. They looked at him with small smiles but didn't speak.

Arthur's blue eyes turned to focus solely on Valiant, his hard, rough heartless features like stone, his cold empty eyes boring into Arthur, causing a chill run down his spine.

"You've heard from your father?" he asked coldly.

Arthur's insides tightened. He hadn't spoken to his father or anyone else from the firm in weeks and suddenly that fact was highly ominous. He didn't reply, he just stood his ground and waited to hear why they were there, though he already knew.

Valiant gave him a small smirk, blood chilling and humorless. "Babysitting's over, time to clean house and get you home."

He knew what the other man was saying. What clean house meant. It meant Merlin with a bullet wound to the back of his head, left to burn as the house around him crumbled to ash. Nothing would be left. He guessed that was why Leon was there. The man knew his way around fires and explosions.

"No." Arthur stated matter-of-factly. His shoulders pulled back and his gaze never once leaving Valiant.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not touching Merlin."

The laughter rang off the walls of the slowly lightening room. "Seriously?" Valiant took a step closer, fixing gazes with his employers' son. "You did it, didn't you? You fucked the little twerp."

Arthur stiffened, not at coarse language but at insulted to Merlin. He hadn't just fucked Merlin, he'd fallen in love him. The man had shown him that his life was on the wrong path and he was ready to change it. He wanted to change it. - For Merlin.

"You have. Jesus, Arthur, weren't you always the one who's always going on about never getting involved during a job." he laughed harshly. "And here you are, fucking the guy. - Well, just goes to prove what I always said about you, you're not up to it. You haven't got what it takes."

"Maybe your right." Arthur murmured.

Valiant's brow rose. "Really?" he took another step, searching for something in Arthur's gaze, that he swiftly found and then he was laughing again, hard and full of amusement. "Well, well, well. The great Arthur Pendragon, lover of men and woman alike. Mr. love and commitment is for the weak, only the job matters, has only gone and fallen in love. That's priceless." he turned to the other two men grinning. "Don't you think boys?"

To their credit neither Percy nor Leon spoke. They just stood there staring wildly at Arthur, unable to believe what they were hearing. Arthur wasn't the type for love or anything even resembling it. Surely Valiant was just trying to push the man's buttons.

"Well I'm sorry Arthur, but the love of your life as out lived his usefulness. It's bye-bye time."

"No." Arthur said once more.

The laughter died on Valiant's lips. "Where is he Arthur?" Valiant demanded angrily.

"He escaped, ran off into the hills."

Valiant snorted. "Do I really look that stupid?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Valiant's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Search the house." he ordered Leon and Percy.

Arthur met the men's gazes over Valiant's shoulder, a warning in their depths. "You're not having him Valiant."

"Oh really? - And let me guess, you're going to stop me?"

"If I have to, yes."

"And what about them." Valiant thumbed over his shoulder.

"First you. - Once you're lying dead at our feet, I trust I'd have made my point and _my_ men will have enough sense not to try their luck with Me." it was said as a warning more than a boast.

"Well aren't you confident." Valiant sneered. "You really want to challenge me on this."

"I've been waiting for a reason to challenge you for a long time Valiant, as I know have you. What better time and place."

"Your father won't be happy Arthur."

"My father is never happy with what I do, so I have decided to give up trying."

The two men stood there, watching each other, waiting for one or the other to make their move.

"I take it we'll be doing this hand to hand?" Valiant asked, unbuckling his holster.

Arthur nodded.

The gun and holster was flung backwards into Leon's waiting arms. "Your right you know Arthur. I really have been waiting for this for a very long time." with the words barely out of his mouth and dead in the air, Valiant rushed Arthur, causing them both to crash to the ground in a grunt, his hand slamming down on Arthur's jaw and then his nose.

Arthur fought back, blocking, attacking. Grunting and bleeding. His head hit the ground with an inhuman crack and he felt bone connecting painfully with bone, hit after hit. He threw his own punches, colliding with jaw and ribs, stomach and nose. He could taste the blood in his mouth, pouring down his throat and almost choking him. Kicking out violently he was able to dislodge Valiant from on top of him, rolling to get to his feet. Arthur spat out a large wad of blood onto the wooden floor and steadied himself as Valiant also got to his feet. His murderous eyes locked on Arthur with deathly intent. Arthur met that gaze without flinching and when the other man rushed him again he was prepared.

He weaved out of the way but Valiant was also prepared and swung around with an elbow to Arthur jaw. The bone ground against the rest of his skull and Arthur could swear he heard a pop. He swung his fist, arm and leg, each connecting with their various targets. He might be punching above his weight but luckily Valiant wasn't as graceful or skilled in hand to hand, preferring to shoot his enemy.

Arthur ducked when Valiant took a swing at his face and was quickly able to counter with his own punch to the side of the head and then to the man's kidney's, winding him for a long moment, giving Arthur a chance to get his bearings. That was when he saw it, across the room by the kitchen, the knife he'd hidden in his waistband. He really was defenseless. If he was going to win this fight and save Merlin, he'd have to do so with his bare hands.

He was so preoccupied with this revelation that he wasn't quick enough to counter Valiant next attack as a leg collided with his ribcage and sending him staggering back in pain, his foot catching on a loose board or the corner of a chair, he didn't know which, all he was aware of was falling backwards and then the sharp agonizing pain radiating from the back of his skull as it connected with the fireplace.

He would always be thankful to whatever god was looking out for him that night, thankful because he didn't pass out, didn't give Valiant the opportunity to finish the job and kill him. Of course he was dazed. Pain was seeping marrow deep into his body and his vision wasn't focused but he by some miracle was able to defend himself from the boot that speeded slowly down towards his face. If it had connected, taking into account the potion of his neck on the brick hearth, it would have broken his neck. As it was Arthur saw it coming and was able to channel his energy into blocking the attack, gripping the boot with both hands, holding it at bay while his right leg lifted, snapping forward to connect with the side of Valiant's knee, sending the man crashing to the ground with a cry of pure agony.

Arthur continued to ignore the pain swamping his body as he scrambled across the room towards the knife, breathless from the broken rib and possible pieced lung. He heard the scarping of booted feet on wood, his time was running out. He couldn't take another blow to the ribs, which experience told him would be Valiant's next and final target. He breathed a sigh of painful relief when he reached the knife before gasping in agony as rough angry fingers clutched tightly into his blood soaked hair, yanking him to his feet.

Arthur didn't hesitate, he didn't wait for Valiant to make some victorious comment like in the movies, he turned swiftly and plunged the knife between his opponents ribs. Deep and at the perfect angle to piece a lung, before tilting the blade and thrusting harder till the tip pressed the heart, blood coating his fingers, hand and wrist.

When the body dropped to the ground at his feet, he dropped too. Breathless, exhausted and in heart stopping agony. He turned his gaze to the two men by the door, knowing they had more respect and sense to challenge him. Arthur's gaze hardened and he forced himself to speak. "Go. Get out of here. I don't care what you tell my father or even if you go back there. Just get out of here."

The two men exchanged looks before Leon stepped forward. For a second Arthur thought he was going to have to fight them too and it scared him.

"We need to get you out of here Arthur, you're badly hurt, you need a hospital."

Arthur was surprised but the genuine concern, though he shouldn't have been. These men were his friends after all and they respected him.

"No, you go, drive to the nearest village and then call for the police and an ambulance. Tell them where we are."

"Arthur, the police? They'll…"

"I know. I don't care. Just do as I've asked. - Go, now." He ordered.

After a long moment's hesitation the two men nodded and reluctantly left, each sending Arthur a look of pride, apology and thank you. Once he heard the sound of the car moving away he breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the wall. His eyes falling shut as the adrenaline was replaced with shock and more pain. Soon he was shaking and it took all he could to fight off the abyss. A fight he was swiftly losing.

"Arthur? - Arthur?"

He forced his eyes open to be met by deep blue one, wide and filled with panic and tears. "Arthur?"

He couldn't speak, couldn't move. All he could do was look at Merlin and feel relief. He'd kept his promise. He'd saved Merlin. Soon the police would be here, he would be safe. Arthur groaned.

"Arthur? Don't you dare die on me you bastard. Not now."

Arthur wanted to reply, wanted to tell Merlin it was alright but his throat was filled with blood. His vision was blurring. He wasn't even strong enough to lift his blood caked hand to touch the terrified face before him. Then a ragged cough forced the blood from his throat, pain shooting through his chest at the action. But there was a silver lining, his throat was clear, he could just about speak.

"Merlin." he gasped.

The younger man leant forward. "Arthur? Arthur, you'll be alright?"

Arthur watched his head snap in the direction of the door and something passed over his face, a look of relief and a small smile. "You're going to be fine. I can hear sirens Arthur. You'll be fine, just stay awake, with me. Okay."

Arthur knew that was an impossible promise, his body was pulling him down into the abyss faster and faster.

"Mer-li-n…. I - I…" he coughed again, tears filling his eyes as he looked up at the man. "I ke-pt my pr-omi-se." he breathed harshly.

"Yes, Arthur. You kept it. I should have trusted you." Merlin dropped an apologetic kiss to his blooded lips.

"I Lo-ve y-you Mer-lin." he whispered painfully, before the fight became too much and the pain pulled him finally into the darkness.

"Arthur!"

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><p><strong>AN: I know, I know, I know. – I have already prepared myself for the death threats. But you know what, not every story gets a happy ending. Sorry.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, even if they are to bitch at me for this. :D**


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Sherlock and John were sat in the back of a speeding police car, Lestrade in the front. Once John had pointed out the obvious, it had taken Sherlock a whole three point two seconds to put the picture together with his memories of Hunith and the photo's he'd taken from Merlin's flat. He'd rushed back to 221B to confirm his suspicions. "Here." he'd snapped; thrusting one of the photos into John's hands as he hit call on his contact list.

"I knew it, it's the same place." John had said, surprised at his own brilliance. His gaze flickering between the landscape picture on the father's day card and the photograph of Hunith holding a small Merlin, no more than three years, on her hip in front of a green wooden cabin house by a lake. "But where is it."

"Ross on-wye." Sherlock stated both answering John and Lestrade in the same breath. "We need a car, _now_ Lestrade. We're running out of time." he hadn't waited for an answer. "We'll meet you at Scotland Yard, be ready." he hung up and headed for the door, John once again on his heels.

John didn't need to ask, Sherlock was already explaining. "Hunith used to go there during her holidays as a child. She was always telling me about it. It was owned by her uncle."

"The old man in the pictures?"

"Yes. She had shown me pictures of the place but I guess I just deleted them from my memory." there was an echo of guilt in his tone.

The pair climbed back into the taxi they'd ordered to wait for them. "Scotland Yard." the black cab moved away from the curb.

"How did he do it? I don't understand. You said these were mass produced cards."

"They are. I'd surmise that he had them mass produce and then sent out to various shop and then probably sent one of his lackey's in to purchase one. We know Moriarty has a vast web of connections; it would not be too hard to organize something so simple. - I'm just ashamed that I didn't see it before." he shook his head.

"You weren't thinking straight Sherlock. You weren't thinking as a detective this past month, you were thinking as a parent." John was trying to be supportive and comforting, but he could tell from the look on Sherlock's face that he was only making the man feel worse.

"Which was exactly the problem, Moriarty knew John. He knew before I did. - He knows my weakness John and I fear what his next game will be." Sherlock turned worried fearful eyes on John, whose gut tightened.

"Sherlock." John said softly. "We'll deal with that when and if it happens and if it does, no secrets, no trying to do it on your own, understand. We will do it together."

The two men stared at each other, a promise passing between them.

"Yes John."

"Good." John sat back against the black leather seat.

"John?"

"Hmm."

"What if we…." Sherlock swallowed as the doctor's head snapped around to glare daggers at him.

"We're not too late Sherlock. He'll be fine."

They'd arrived at Scotland Yard quickly. Jumping out of a black cab and into a panda, the sirens screaming into the early morning silence as it rushed out of London on his way to the welsh boarder. Lestrade had order an ambulance to meet them closer to Ross on-wye. They were just twenty minutes away and the pressure was building. John stared at the horizon and the slowly rising sun. He'd told Sherlock that they'd make it, that Merlin would be alright but as the sun peeked over the mountains; he began to fear that he'd lied.

Finally just as the first pure ray of sunlight broke across the pale blue sky, the three police cars and one ambulance drove single file up toward the crumbling green house. It was ominously silent and Sherlock, John and Lestrade felt their stomach drop to their ankles.

"You two stay here…" Lestrade ordered the detective and the doctor.

Sherlock looked ready to argue but John pressed a hand to his arm to hold him back.

Lestrade gave orders to the few officers he'd brought with him, the paramedics waiting; armed with their supply bags to go in and attend any wounded. The DI and two uniforms moved cautiously towards the door when it flew open and a raven haired man rushed into view.

"Hold your fire!" Lestrade yelled at the top of his lungs, knowing with a single look who the young man was.

"Help him!" Merlin yelled. "He's badly hurt. I - I think….Just help!" he all but screamed.

With a signal from Lestrade the paramedics ran into the house behind Merlin, Lestrade, Sherlock and John on their heels. They found a tearful, pale and worried Merlin knelt beside a young man only a few years older, blood coating his face, hands and body, a few feet away another body. Dead.

"What happened?" Lestrade asked stepping up behind the paramedics.

John looked at Sherlock, waiting for the long winded explanation only to find him preoccupied, staring at his sons, a look of relief and something he never thought he'd see on the man's face in a million years. Love.

"They came to kill me." Merlin was saying. "Arthur protected me. He'd promised too."

Sherlock frowned deeply at the look his son was giving the slightly older man. "Who is he?"

Merlin looked up and froze, clearly seeing the resemblance. They just stared at each other for a long second, before Merlin tore his deep blue gaze away to focus of Arthur, never answering his father's question.

"Is he?" he asked with a fear lace shaky voice.

"He's got a couple of broken ribs, I'd guess a pieced lung and I'm not at all happy about the head injury, but he's alive and if we get him to a hospital now, he might stay that way."

Merlin slumped beside him huffing with relief. "Thank god." he prayed, his shaking fingers wrapping around Arthur's, oblivious to the concerned and curious looks coming from Sherlock and John.

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><p><strong>AN: SUCKERS! Rofl. Come on people, really. You seriously didn't fall for it again did you? *shakes head* I can't believe it. I'm not going to kill the leads. Jeez, give me some credit. And yes you may call me all the names under the sun. **


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

The tension in the room was suffocating. John had insisted on Merlin going to hospital to be checked over, concerned by his deathly pale and thin appearance. Merlin had insisted on going with Arthur, Sherlock had argued against it, heatedly, demanding rather loudly that if Merlin must go to the hospital then he will travel in the other police car with John to watch over him and for the first time, someone other than John Watson stood toe to toe with Sherlock Holmes and flat out defied him. The young man marched off stubbornly to the ambulance and climbed into the back, his gaze fixed solely on Arthur's unconscious form.

"Yep, most defiantly your son." Lestrade said light heartedly. "Come on, we'll meet them at the hospital."

Sherlock had stared stern faced as the ambulance doors closed on his son.

"Sherlock?" John called, holding the police car door open for him. "Come on."

So now they sat in the hospital waiting room while Merlin got a full MOT. John pacing back and forth, as he always did when anxious; Lestrade sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair staring down at his folded hands, his elbows on his knees as they bounded. All the while Sherlock stood by the large window, looking out at the early morning light not really seeing anything, slowly becoming bored. He couldn't help was wish Mycroft was there, only because the man would give him a cigarette, not because he wanted any kind of family support. He had all the support he needed with John. - And even Lestrade.

Finally the door opened to reveal a young male doctor a good ten years John's junior. Sherlock didn't move from the window when John and Lestrade turned to speak to the man.

"Is he alright?" John asked in an overly concerned voice. He knew anyone who heard it would think he was the boy's father, especially seeing as how Sherlock looked like he couldn't care less. Of course John knew otherwise.

The young doctor's face was serious. "He hasn't eaten properly for at least a week and he's a little dehydrated but my real concern is…" he sent an apologetically look to John, the look doctors were trained to put on when delivering bad news to families. "He's got some anal bruising and tearing. He says it wasn't forced, that he'd just had rough sex but…" the younger man blushed a little. "I'm not completely convinced. I want him to talk to our counsellor, see if she can get him to open up about what happened and whether or not…."

"It was consensual." Sherlock stated sharply from across the room, causing the young doctor to frown, looking between the three men.

"He's the boy's father." Lestrade clarified.

The look on the young doctor's face said, as John had suspected, that he thought John was.

"I…How can you be sure?" asked the doctor, highly, confused.

"It's perfectly obvious to anyone with half a brain cell and a pair of eyes." Sherlock announced harshly.

"Sherlock." John warned.

"You saw him John. Saw the way he was with that….he's besotted. I have no doubt he's telling the truth when he says he's merely had rough sex, probably less than three or four hours ago as the bruising hasn't diminished."

The room was silent as the three men stared at a distant and clinical Sherlock. When John turned to the younger doctor he could see the look of disgust in his gaze. A common reaction when it came to Sherlock. But the man didn't know him. Few did. He doubted even Lestrade could detect that hitch in his voice when he was angry, or the way he took one too many deep breaths when he was upset. He knew the young man beside him was seeing a heartless, soulless bastard who cared little for his son. He knew that Lestrade was just seeing Sherlock, the same way he always did. But John was seeing a guilt ridden father.

"Well, I still want him to see the counsellor." The doctor said harshly, his brown eyes burning into the back of Sherlock.

"Therapy is pointless, they are always wrong aren't they John?"

"Ignore him." John said swiftly.

The doctor nodded, sending another scathing glare Sherlock, who was now looking over his shoulder at the three men. "He'll probably need more therapy when he leaves; he's been through a traumatic experience. I want to keep him here for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, to deal with the dehydration then you can take him home. He'll need to be watched closely for the next few days."

"John is a doctor and perfectly aware what Merlin will need." Sherlock said in that cold tone he uses on people that are annoying him.

"Oh." the young man looked at John. "I didn't know."

"It's fine. So can we see him?" John asked, still sounding more like a concerned parent than Sherlock.

"I'll have someone fetch you once he's seen the counsellor."

"Thank you." John nodded, turning to walk over to Sherlock, a 'not good' glare on his face.

"Doctor?" Lestrade said as the younger man looked ready to leave.

"Yes, Inspector?"

"What about…" he glanced at Sherlock for a brief moment. "…the other one."

"Oh, Yes. He has three broken ribs, a punctured lunch, a dislocated left shoulder and a few cuts and bruise, but we're mostly concerned about his head injury. He's been unconscious since he was brought in and he's got some swelling to the brain. It's going to take a few days for that to go down. He won't be able to be transferred to London until it has."

Lestrade nodded. "I'll organize for a permanent guard to be put on his room."

"I'll inform the nursing staff." the doctor said, nodding at the Inspector and John, completely ignoring the heartless consulting detective as he left.

Lestrade pulled out his phone to set up the arrangements and Sherlock turned back to the window.

"Sherlock?"

"John?"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course, is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

John huffed. "Well your son…"

"Is alive and in reasonable good health."

"Physically yes. - but the doctor's right Sherlock, He'll need therapy."

Sherlock turned questioning eyes of John. "Did it help you deal with your traumatic experience?"

John looked at his feet sadly, his hand drifting to the right leg. They both knew the answer. His therapist hadn't cured him of his PTSD, - in fact if Mycroft was to be believed, she's actually misdiagnosed it in the first place. - She hadn't been much help, except for getting him to write a blog, leading him to become the official blogger of Sherlock Holmes. But it had been Sherlock that had cured him of the limp and the pain and the nightmares. He'd given him something to live for. John glanced up to meet his friend's eyes. If Sherlock could save John, maybe he could save Merlin. - And maybe Merlin could help John save his father.

"He'll need to come back to London with us." John finally said, changing the subject somewhat.

"Obviously. I have learnt my lesson John. Merlin will not be let out of my sight."

"Sherlock…"

"Of course, it is his choice John but I intend to make it very clear the danger he will be in if he does not return and remain with us at Baker Street."

A shiver ran through John. He could only imagine how that conversation was going to go. From the little he'd seen of Merlin he knew he was too much like his father for them to have a smooth relationship. It would be a miracle if they had a relationship at all.

"Where will he stay?" John frowned suddenly. "We've only got two rooms."

Sherlock was already pulling out his phone and typing off messages. "C." was all he said, but it was enough for John.

"He can't stay there. It a disgrace, all that damp will make him ill Sherlock."

"Don't worry so much John. Everything will be fine. After everything we've done for Mycroft I think he owes us a few favours, don't you." He smirked, his fingers moving over the keys.

**MSG: Mycroft**

**Need flat C refurbished. **

**You have 48 hrs. **

**S.**

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I hoped you enjoyed. Sorry if it's a bit sucky, it was written at one in the morning. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. **


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

Merlin snuck down the hospital corridor dressed only in a gown, thankful they didn't open at the back anymore. He was unsteady on his legs after the examination, having spent almost an hour trying to convince the doctor that the tearing was his own fault. It had been the most embarrassing hour in living memory. He knew the doctor didn't believe him, which meant at some point a counsellor would be arriving to ask him subtitle questions in an attempt to discover if he'd been raped. He'd have to tell the whole story again, only this time the man or woman, probably a woman, would see he was holding something back; she'd push and pull till she got it out of him, all of it, every single thing he had locked away in his head and heart and he knew what her diagnosis would be. Just as he'd always told himself. _Stockholm_.

He shook his head as he walked. Maybe it was Stockholm; frankly he'd given up caring. It didn't matter why he had these feelings; all that mattered was how real they were and they were real. He hadn't believed that, not for a while, but after seeing Arthur's reaction to his self-harming punishment sex and then seeing how he'd almost died to keep his promise, how could he not believe and trust his feeling for Arthur or the slightly older man's for him.

Merlin ducked behind a wall when he heard a nurse coming towards him and waited for the stout red head to walk past before he carried on. He needed to see Arthur. Needed to make sure he was alright. The doctor had refused to tell him anything, so Merlin had little choice that to go in search of him. He'd luckily heard two nursed carelessly talking about them both at the nurses' station. They mentioned thankfully, were Arthur was. Merlin took each step cautiously, fearing capture. Was it ridiculous that he had to sneak through a hospital to be with the man he loved? Just to make sure he was alright. He thought so, many would disagree.

He finally reached the room after what felt like an eternity of walking. He was grateful there hadn't been some policeman or other posted at his door, at least not yet. Carefully Merlin pushed it open, hoping there wasn't a load of doctors and nurses surrounding the bed. Stepping over the threshold of the all but empty room, Merlin closed the door quietly and turned towards Arthur.

At the bedside, Merlin's legs finally gave way and he had to grip the side of the bed tight to stop from falling. He looked horrific; his face had swollen up more than it had been at the house. He had tubes coming out of his mouth and nose, machines beeping around him and a large bandage wrapped around his head. He looked close to death and Merlin felt the tears falling down his cheeks. He pressed a shaky hand to Arthur's, wrapping their fingers together as he settled himself on the side of the bed. "Arthur. I know you can hear Me." his voice was whisper, soft and rough from the tears clawing their way free of his throat. "I'm sorry Arthur. I'm sorry you ended up here, like this." he squeezed his fingers. "I'd rather be dead than have to see you like this."

Merlin swiped at his eyes, smearing the water across his cheeks. He just sat there, in silence, his fingers knotted with Arthur's. He couldn't think of what to say, or do or think really. He just needed to be there, at Arthur's side. It always felt so right and natural to be there. Like destiny or fate, something silly like that. How could what he was feeling be wrong, be fake, when he was thinking like that? Surely that meant what was between them was real? "It is real. I know it is. You know it is. - It doesn't matter what they say Arthur, what they tell me. - What they make me tell myself, I'll always know it's really. It wouldn't hurt this bad if it wasn't." He was stroking small circles into the back of Arthur's motionless cold hand with his thumb. "I've met my father Arthur. - Well, not so much met, we haven't really spoken or anything. Except for when he demanded I leave your side. But I know it's him. He looks just like me. My mum always said I looked like him." Merlin sighed.

He hadn't gotten around to telling Arthur about himself, about him mum and Gaius and the mystery surrounding his father because it had all hit the fan, but now he wanted to tell him, wanted Arthur to know everything. "I think my mum loved him a lot. She rarely talked about him when I was growing up, she just used to say that he was a really good person and would countless be a great man. That he was a genius and that I got my brains from him. - I never really cared about who he was or whether or not I took after him, I had my mum and my uncle Gaius. - But after mum died, I…well, I began to wonder, began to want." Merlin let out a heavy huff of air. "The strange thing was I didn't want to find him, I wasn't going to go in search of him, maybe because in a ridiculous way, I wanted him to find me. Cause if he did that then it meant that he actually wanted me, that he cared."

Merlin swallowed hard and shifted further on the bed. "And he did, he came looking. When I needed him most he came looking." a small smile pulled at Merlin's lips. "Do you think it's silly Arthur, that I'm actually glad, that I'm feeling a strange kind of love for the man? - I think its weird." he sighed. "I don't even know him. He could be some kind of weirdo or psychopath…."

"Sociopath actually."

A voice startled Merlin out of his conversation, his head snapping around so fast it made him dizzy and he almost toppled off the bed, but was saved by two thin long arms.

"Careful."

Merlin looked up into blue eyes a thousand shaded lighter than his own. "T-thanks…I - Don't call the nurses."

Sherlock frowned. "Why would I do that?"

Merlin matched that frown exactly, a perfect copy. "Because I'm not meant to be in here."

"Because they think he abused you." He said in a factual tone, like he was talking to a stranger.

Merlin nodded before quickly jumping to Arthur's defense. "But he didn't. I swear he didn't. I consented to everything." his gaze turned to Arthur as he remembered their last time together. "He didn't though. So if either of us is the abuser it's me."

Sherlock watched his son closely, watched the way he interacted with the unconscious man in the bed. It was strange how much of himself he could see in Merlin. He could imagine himself sat in a similar way if it had been John lying there. "These moronic doctors want you to speak to a therapist."

"I don't need therapy." Merlin snapped a little too loudly.

"That as may be but you have little choice, if you don't speak to them, they may not let you return to London with me and John."

Merlin's head snapped around to stare at his father. "London?"

"Of course. You will live with us. Well at the same address, there is a spare flat you can have. It should be livable by the time we return."

Merlin's gaze hardened. "I don't want to live in London. I have university and friends in Cardiff."

"That is irrelevant. You can transfer your studies to a university or collage in London and as for your so-called friends; they didn't even realize you were missing." Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

Merlin's face dropped, knowing his father was right. But that didn't change anything. He wasn't going to move to London. Cardiff was his home and nothing would change that. Especially a man he'd only known a few hours. "I don't care, I'm not moving." he said stubbornly.

Sherlock glared at him, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. "I'm your father."

"So?" Merlin's tone hardened.

"I have been informed that it is my duty to protect you."

"Huh, since when?" Merlin scoffed. "I haven't heard from you in nineteen years, now suddenly you want to play Daddy. I don't think so."

"I stayed away for your own protection."

"Lot of good that did." Merlin snapped. "I'm assuming this is all down to you."

Sherlock lifted his chin, straightened his spine and met his son's angry gaze silently.

"So I was kidnapped to get to you?"

"Yes."

The room filled with a tense silence, Merlin turning his attention back to Arthur, Sherlock just staring at his son, still unable to understand the emotions bubbling inside him.

"Why?" Merlin frowned.

"Pardon?"

"I asked why? There has to be a reason?" Merlin turned back to his father. "What are you?"

"I'm a consulting detective." Sherlock said with that arrogant pride of his.

"A what?"

Sherlock sighed. "I consult with the police on difficult cases – Because their morons and would be lost without me."

"Oh." Merlin frowned, processing the new information. "I see, so you piss some criminal off and now he wants revenge via me?"

"It's far more complicated than that." Sherlock told him.

"I'm listening."

"There is a man called Moriarty. He is my nemesis…."

"So what, now you're a super hero." Merlin scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock glared. "The man is dangerous, Merlin. He is responsible for countless crimes, including murder, trafficking and forgery, and that's just on a dull day. - He sees it as a game and I'm his opponent. Three months ago he kidnapped John and told me in no uncertain turns that he was going to destroy me, one person at a time."

Merlin was actually trembling at the idea that some madman was willing to kidnap and kill him just to destroy his father.

"When you went missing I knew the game had begun. I've spent the past month trying to find you but…" Sherlock features darkened, he hadn't to admit failer. "…he was too cleaver."

"But you did find me." Merlin said blandly.

"Because he let me." The consulting detective walked to the window. "If he hadn't had, you might have…."

Merlin swallowed, shaking his head. "No. Arthur would have saved me, he did save Me." he turned his blue eyes back to the sleeping man, their fingers knotted together.

Sherlock just stared out of the hospital window and his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of a billboard across the street, in red paint sprayed across it were the words. **I Own You**. "Then do not repay what he has done for you but being an idiot." Sherlock said a little breathlessly. "I can protect you back at Baker Street." his voice was strained from the pounding of his heart.

Merlin heard the tone and somewhere something clicked. "For how long?"

"Until Moriarty is dealt with." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

"Fine. - But…"

Sherlock turned to stare at his son. "But?"

"What about Arthur?" Merlin asked nervously.

Sherlock's gaze flickered from Merlin to Arthur and back again. "He is part of a large criminal enterprise; he is the son of a very powerful and dangerous man and not to mention he has held you hostage for the past month."

Merlin stared down at Arthur in shock. "He's Moriarty's son?" he gasped.

"Of course not." Sherlock sighed. "His father is not that dangerous. His father is Uther Pendragon. He runs a group of ex-military types that can be hired for assassination and kidnappings. The only reason he is not already in prison is because he has good lawyers and an army of people to take the fall. Nothing ever touches Uther Pendragon." Sherlock stated like he was giving a lecture at a university. Like there was no emotional connection at all.

"So what will happen to Arthur?"

"He will probably be treated like any other member of his father's firm. He'll be hung out to dry. Family loyalty isn't on the top of Pendragon's list of priorities."

"He didn't hurt me and he was only following orders. Can't you, you know, talk to the police, if your some great detective? Can't you get them to let him go?"

Sherlock frowned. "That would be impossible. He is still guilty of holding you hostage Merlin and probably a dozen other crimes that he must pay for."

"But he's changed. He didn't want to do those things, he told me. - He hated his job." Merlin pleaded desperately. "Please?"

Merlin turned sad pleading eyes on Sherlock and the detective felt something in his chest break, as well as the sudden urge to give the boy whatever he wanted. "I'll talk to Lestrade. - If you speak to the therapist."

Sherlock may not believe in therapy but John did and he trusted John. So Merlin would go into therapy and Sherlock would see what he could do about Arthur Pendragon.

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><p><strong>AN: thank you for reading and reviewing.**


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

"You can't give into it Sherlock." John said from his large chair in Baker Street. "What he's feeling isn't real, he's suffering from Stockholm, his therapist says so."

Sherlock stared over at his friend with calculating eyes, his fingers steepled against his lips. "It has been almost three months, John and he's been undergoing therapy on your insistence three times a week and it hasn't changed his feeling for the man."

"That doesn't mean…"

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that Merlin may actually care for Arthur?" Sherlock tone and frown made the doctor instantly uncomfortable. "I thought being gay was _fine_?"

John swallowed hard. "Are you insinuating that I'm being homophobic?"

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "You have always seemed to have an issue concerning the subject. You're always insulted when someone comments on our relationship. It is not such a large leap."

"I'm not _homophobic_ Sherlock! I'm concerned for Merlin's metal health." John snapped a little too insistently.

"And I am not? – I realize this may be hard for you to understand John, but I know my son almost as well as I know you…."

"In three months?" John scoffed.

Sherlock lifted a brow. "I knew everything I needed to know about _you_ in three _minutes_." His tone grew harsher. "Both Mycroft and I are convinced Merlin's feelings are not the result of the kidnapping and that alone is enough for me to want to help them."

"You're not professionals Sherlock." John pleaded. "You're behaving like a father. You're spoiling him. You're supposed to put his welfare first, not his desires. If he wanted to jump off a cliff, would you let him?"

"That would depend on why he felt it necessary to do so." Sherlock stated blandly.

"Jesus Sherlock!" John glared a little too angrily. "Why can't you see this for what it is? Why aren't you looking at his with the same deductive mind you look at everything else in life?"

"I am John, that is the point. – I have used every ounce of my 'deductive mind'; I have examined Merlin and Arthur's relationship from every angle. The evidence says that they shared something profound over that month and that their feelings are very real."

John scoffed. "Like you'd know."

Sherlock's brows drew together and his jaw clenched tight. John instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing and moaned inwardly.

"I…"

"Despite what you may think John, love is not a mystery to me. I understand it better than you realize." The detective's voice was low and harsh. "I do however wonder if it may not be a mystery to you."

"What is that meant to mean?" John snapped.

Sherlock just stared at him, eye to eye, unflinchingly.

"Well?"

"I was merely wondering if you have ever actually been in love. – And I don't mean the kind that the idiot population fool themselves with day after day. I mean the type where you can't imagine life without the person your with, where you can't remember life before them, where you'd willingly throw yourself off that cliff for them. That is what Merlin feels for Arthur. – I fear you cannot accept it because you have never felt it, despite your countless attempts."

John glared at Sherlock, insulted. How dare the man question the depths of his emotions just because he didn't think it sensible to allow his son to get involved with the criminal that was at least partly responsible for his kidnapping? Like the man even understood what he was talking about. "Oh and you have, I suppose?" he scoffed angrily.

Sherlock once again simply met John's gaze and the doctor was suddenly overcome with a feeling of uncertainty and discomfort.

Clearing his throat, John focused once more on the subject at hand. "Alright, say your right and Merlin is in love or whatever with this guy. What if it's not reciprocated? What if it was just a case of using Merlin to fill the boredom? A month is a long time in the middle of nowhere Sherlock. Maybe this young man just thought to use your son as a distraction. Or maybe he hoped for this exact outcome. Getting Merlin to fall in love with him so that he would convince you to get him off of the kidnapping charge? Did you ever consider that? – What if you help get him released and he turns around and just fucks off? How will you cope with a broken hearted teenager?"

Sherlock looked at John thoughtfully. He knew Merlin's feeling on the matter, knew what he felt was real. But he hadn't real taken the time to see or speak to Arthur. "I had not considered that."

John sighed. "Clearly. Sherlock, you've been so focused on making Merlin happy that you haven't considered all the facts, or weighed up the possibility that the boy was just using him."

"He was not using me!" Yelled a now familiar voice.

John groaned inwardly again, it was not his morning, closing his eyes for a long moment he took a deep breath before turning to face the furious glare of Merlin.

"Merlin I….We were…"

"I know, I heard. Arthur loves me, he said so. He was not using me. Why can't you get that?" Merlin shouted.

"Merlin, I was just playing devil's advocate. I just don't want Sherlock doing anything he or you will regret." John stated as calmly as he could.

Ever since they'd gotten back to London and Merlin had settled into the refurbished basement flat, he and John had been butting head constantly. It was inexplicable, even to Sherlock and Mycroft, why the pair didn't seem to get on. Something about John just wound Merlin up, which lead to him sniping at the doctor at every opportunity. Sherlock figured it might have something to do with John's stubborn refusal to believe that Merlin and Arthur actually cared for one another.

"Merlin he was your kidnapper…."

"No, he was my babysitter. He wasn't the one that dragged me off the street. He was the one that fixed me up and fed me and made that month one of the happiest in recent memory."

"Merlin…" John sighed. "He kept you locked away and it's completely understandable that you'd feel some kind of…"

"Stop psychoanalyzing me! I get enough of that from that moronic therapist you're making me see. She doesn't get it, and neither do you. It's not Stockholm. I can't prove it to you, but I know it. Whether Sherlock or Mycroft get him out isn't going to change my feelings or Arthur's."

"Merlin." Why couldn't the boy just see he was looking out for him?

"No. I don't care what you think John…." Merlin turned angrily to leave but paused turning back to glare at the doctor. "Your just jealous." he snapped.

"Jealous?" John frowned, slightly amused. "Of what exactly?"

"Me and Arthur, we're together even though we're apart, we care about each other and we don't care who knows it. While _you_ just sit here in your little domestic palace and pretend you're just friends. You keep dating women when you know it's never going to work out because you'll always put dad first. Meanwhile he has to watch you make an idiot of yourself over and again and he says nothing because he cares about you too much and you're too self-important to notice. If either of us has metal issue, _it you_." Merlin yelled in a breathless rush before marching angrily out of the flat, leaving a flushed and shocked John staring after him.

When John turned to glance at Sherlock, he found the man staring at his fingers.

"That's just…If that doesn't prove my point." John stuttered uncomfortably.

Sherlock was on his feet and walking to the door. "I have to meet Mycroft. Try not to kill Merlin while I'm gone." Sherlock said coolly, not meeting John's gaze but the doctor could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he was tired.

John sat alone in the flat listening to his pounding heart and the distant sound of Merlin's music, which swiftly stopped, meaning Mrs. Hudson had read him the riot act. In the sudden silence John ran over what Merlin had yelled. The boy was clearly under the same mistaken impression as everyone else. _But he's Sherlock's son. He has his stubbornness and his cheekbones and his mind._ The thought did nothing to ease John irritation.

**~MERLIN/SHERLOCK~**

Why couldn't they just see the truth? Merlin asked himself as he threw himself back against the bed. All he wanted was to be with Arthur, but John Watson seemed determined to keep him from being happy. He'd meant what he'd said, the man was jealous. Since the moment he's seen his father and John together he'd known they share the same kind of bond he and Arthur had. It was blatant, like a light in a tunnel. Part of Merlin had felt an instant dislike towards John because of it. After all, his mother had loved Sherlock, deeply. It was a kind of irrational jealousy on her behalf. Like the kind children feel when their forced to endure a step parent.

Now he understood why it would never have worked between his parents and with the answering to that question the anger and hurt he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying towards his father had vanished, to be replace by forgiveness and a strange spark of love. After all it was Sherlock fault he was attracted to women.

That was where this irritation and fury towards John came from. Clearly his father cared for the man, and it was rather obvious that the feelings were reciprocated, but John Watson was so convinced he wasn't gay, like it was that bloody simple. Merlin may be young but he understood the world better than most. Something he thought now that he might have inherited from Sherlock. The thing was, love wasn't about being gay or straight or bi, it was just love. Sure if you wanted sexy you had to at least fancy the person but come on, the mind, heart and body were connected weren't they? If you loved someone, the rest just came naturally. Sure it would be weird and awkward and may very well freak the living hell out of a convinced closet case like John Watson but if he cared for Sherlock, if he loved Sherlock, they'd figure it out. What made Merlin so mad was that the older man just refused to even acknowledge that much. He just kept spouting the 'we're just friends' thing, which practically everyone knew was hogwash.

So instead of sorting out his own damn love-life, he was sticking his unwelcome closet-case nose into Merlin's, and it was driving him crazy. He only hoped that his father wouldn't listen to John, wouldn't put the man before him because Merlin had already decided when he'd moved in here, that if Sherlock Holmes wanted to play daddy, then he would do it properly, or Merlin was on the first train back to Cardiff, Moriarty or no.

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><p><strong>AN: So how did you like my freaky family dynamic? Crazy huh. It became obvious to me while writing the previous chapter that while Merlin and Sherlock would butthead because they're so alike, John and Merlin had more of a reason not to get on. Jealous. We've all seen how John reacts to being pushed out of the number one spot in Sherlock's life thanks to Adler, obviously Merlin would naturally take over that spot in the man's life and John would feel put out by it. Of course, John's too much of a good guy to even realize that's what he's feeling and if he did realize, he'd be utterly ashamed of himself. As for Merlin, well he's still kinda young and after spending years wondering about Sherlock and why his mother never got to keep the love of her life, he would naturally see John as a threat, not only to himself but to his mother, whether Sherlock loved her or not. He knows John is Sherlock's number one and that would put any child's nose out of joint right. You have to kinda feel sorry for Sherlock, being stuck between a rock and a hard place. **

**As for the whole bit about love and sex. I have to admit it's came from watching Queer as Folk (UK) last night, having never really watched it. I've spent the last three nights catching up on YouTube. Anyway, Stuart was having this rant about how you can love someone but if you don't fancy them then nothing's going to come of it, and I was like, seriously? If you really loved Vince, the rest would just come natural. I mean isn't that what we're all told when you're starting out, that the kissing and the sexy is a natural process that just comes to you. And I guess it stayed with me while writing this. Cause if John (straight as he may or may not be) actually loved and wanted to be with Sherlock, the rest would just work itself out. - Or am I being cliché and overly romantic? Probably, but who gives a shit. I'm a romantic slash fan, and I don't care on jot. Rofl. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, can't wait to hear from you. **


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

Mycroft walked into the interview room at the prison to find Arthur Pendragon sat at the table. He'd recovered better than expected, his tired blue eyes lifting to meet Mycroft's. They hadn't allowed Merlin to see Arthur since his release from hospital. Sherlock had told his son that he wanted him to finish theory just to be sure and after three months of seemingly endless appointment both Mycroft and Sherlock were convinced that Merlin's feelings were genuine, at least as much as a normal. Now they just need to be sure that Arthur wasn't actually using Merlin, like John feared, and Mycroft had a perfect test that never failed. - It had certainly worked on John.

"Mr. Pendragon." Mycroft said taking a seat across from him, crossing his legs and leaning back in the plastic chair with an air of superiority.

"Who are you?" Arthur frowned cautiously.

"That's not important; all you need to know is that I can get you out of here."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? How?"

"Again, not important."

Something in Arthur's stomach tightened, his soldiers instincts going on high alert. "Why?"

Mycroft waved a hand. "I need someone on the outside."

"Doing what?" he glared.

Mycroft smirked. "Nothing that you would be uncomfortable with, considering your…." he glanced at him meaningfully. "…occupation."

"What?" Arthur's gaze narrowed.

"I am given to understand that you recently began a… would you call it a relationship? With Merlin Emrys."

Arthur shifted in his seat.

"You know of course who his father is?" Mycroft smirked, picking an invisible spec of fluff off his sleeve.

"I've been told, yes. - So?"

"So…" Mycroft sighed dramatically. "I will secure your release if you continue your association with Mr Emrys, who as we speak has taken up residence with his father."

Arthur started wide eyed at the older man, his heart racing. Was he really offering to have him released so he could be with Merlin? Yes, but at what price? Where was the catch?

"All I want is for you to keep me informed of Mr. Holmes's comings and goings. Let me know what he's up to. - And I am willing to add to the offer, financially."

"Why?" Arthur swallowed.

"Just call me an interested party."

"Are you the one who hired my father to kidnap Merlin?" Arthur tone was growing angry.

Mycroft met Arthur's gaze with a raised challenging brow. "Do you want out of here or not?"

"Not." Arthur replied flatly without hesitation.

Mycroft seemed surprised. "You're looking at a long incarceration Mr. Pendragon. At least twenty five years. - I could even make it longer. Are you sure you would not like to reconsider?"

"No." Arthur leant back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

The two men watched each other intently.

"May I ask why you would throw your freedom away like this?"

Arthur's blue eyes turned to steel as he lent across the table, his features stern and unforgiving. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't understand."

Mycroft smirked.

Suddenly the door opened to reveal the tall lanky form of Sherlock Holmes, stern faced and superior, just like his brother. Arthur knew who he was the same way everyone instantly recognized Merlin. They were like two peas in a pod. "Mycroft, give us a few moments will you."

The older man lifted himself out of the chair, his gaze never leaving Arthur's, a shadow of respect and satisfaction in there, which made Arthur just a little bit proud. He watched the older man leave, his seat taken over by the slightly more intimidating form of Sherlock Holmes. _Merlin__'__s father_. Arthur's heart slammed painfully against his ribs, so hard he thought they might break again.

"How are you?" Sherlock asked coolly.

Arthur swallowed back the nervous lump in his throat. "Uh, I - I'm fine, thank you. - How is Merlin?" he rushed to ask.

Sherlock lent back, examining the younger man. "Why do you care?"

"Because…. I do."

Sherlock's brow rose, telling Arthur he wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"Because I love him and I want to know he's alright."

"You mean after everything you did you him?" Sherlock accused.

"I didn't do anything to him." Arthur snapped angrily.

"Really? His hospital reports say differently. - When he was taken to the hospital they said he was malnourished, dehydrated and had suffered from physical abuse of a sexual nature." Sherlock tone was dangerously cold.

Arthur shifted in his seat. "I - That's not what…we…" He dropped his blond head into his hands. How was he meant to explain what had happened between him and Merlin, to the boy's father of all people. Of course the man thought he'd done that to Merlin, who would put themselves through that kind of abuse. Arthur shook his head. Maybe it was his fault, he should have forced Merlin to eat and drink, and he should have done more to stop him that last night. Why hadn't he?

Sherlock watched the man closely, every answer he needed being revealed in his face and body. He felt guilty, overly so. He hadn't forced himself on Merlin, not that Sherlock had ever really believed that accusation. And most importantly he cared for Merlin, deeply.

"Why didn't you take the deal?" Sherlock asked.

Arthur looked up, eyes red and filled with confusion. "Huh?"

"The deal you were just given, to use Merlin to spy on me. Why didn't you take it?"

"I would rather stay here for the rest of my life than betray Merlin."

Sherlock's chin lifted. "What would you do for your freedom?" Arthur remained silent and the consulting detective smirked. "If we let you go on the condition that you disappear and never make any attempt to contact Merlin again, would you?"

"No."

Sherlock's features didn't alter, he continued to stare at Arthur.

"Would you give us everything you have on your father and his company's dealings?"

"Yes. - I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

One look at the anger flashing in Arthur's gaze told Sherlock that the young man would have given them the information without the promise of release. With all the answers he'd come for Sherlock got up from the plastic seat without another word.

"Mr Holmes?" Arthur stopped him.

Sherlock looked back over his shoulder.

"Is he alright?" Arthur asked with pure concern.

"He's fine." then he left.

~**SHERLOCK/MERLIN**~

"It was a test?" John snapped angrily, glaring at Mycroft.

"Of course it was a test, John. I needed to be sure the man sharing his life with my brother was trustworthy."

"I'm not sharing my life with Sherlock!" he stormed towards the kitchen, ignoring the hurt look on Sherlock's face as he past the couch.

He'd been haunted all day by what Merlin had said about their relationship, for some reason he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that maybe the boy had a point and that was beyond unsettling.

"Is he alright?" Mycroft questioned.

Sherlock sighed heavily. "He had another argument with Merlin this morning."

"About?"

"John disapproval of Arthur. - He's still convinced Merlin is suffering from Stockholm."

"Huh." Mycroft nodded, turning to stare at John as he walked back in with the tea. "You know I've had all of my best people go through Merlin's interviews and case notes John. They do not agree with your therapist's diagnosis. - I'm actually considering having her put under review."

John met the older Holmes's gaze. "What?"

"Well, this does seem to be a pattern John. Makes me wonder how many other people she's misdiagnosed." Mycroft smiled, taking the tea offered him as he settled back into Sherlock's chair, John opposite him and Sherlock across the room plucking at his violin.

"So what now?" John asked, staring down into his cup.

"I will have one of my people visit with Mr. Pendragon and obtain the information he has offered. Once I'm sure it's accurate and will lead to the conviction of his father, then I'll begin arrangements for his release."

"I don't like it." John sighed.

"You've made that abundantly clear John, but this is happening so get used to it." Sherlock snapped, shooting to his feet and marching to his bedroom, Mycroft, John and his tea forgotten.

John sat awkwardly in his seat as the painful scream of Sherlock's violin floated in from the other room. He knew he'd hurt the man's feelings, probably more times in one day than he had in the whole year they'd known each other, at it hurt him as much as Sherlock. Ever since Merlin's arrival in their lives, something fundamental had shifted in their relationship and John wasn't at all sure that it was.

"This is hardly the proper environment for raising children John." Mycroft said blandly.

"What?" John's gaze snapped up to meet Mycroft's dead-pan expression.

"Tension is hardly conducive to a happy home life. – So fix it."

"I haven't done anything!" John snapped. "I'm just trying to be the sensible one. I just happen to think that allowing this dangerous young man back into Merlin's life is a bad decision."

"Arthur Pendragon is no more dangerous that you John. – You've both got blood on your hands, and for the same reasons." Mycroft sighed, putting his teacup aside and retrieving a file from his briefcase. "Read." He ordered.

John opened the file to find a picture and profile. **Name: Arthur Bradley Pendragon. Date of Birth: 5th April 1987. Place of Birth: London, England. Followed by a detailed description of his life; Eton. Oxford. Royal Fusiliers: joined up at the age of 18 after dropping out of Oxford, served with distinction. Champion with Army Boxing Team, expert in hand to hand combat, brought out after three years to join his father's company 2010. **

John read on. There was nothing overly bad jumping out at him. Arson, connections to other kidnappings but nothing that told John he was practically dangerous. Mycroft analysis said that he was being groomed to take over, which meant he kept his hands clean unless necessary. All in all, the boy was a puppet. John suddenly had the feeling he'd jumped to conclusions and misjudged the boy without even meeting him.

"All of the really bloody crimes were committed by Valiant Prince. The dead man found at the cabin. We have a file on him too, and I can assure you John, it is at least five times thicker than that one." Mycroft announced sipping his tea. "Now don't get me wrong John. I'm not practically comfortable with this situation, while I don't doubt that Merlin and his young man's feeling are genuine he is, as you correctly pointed out, a criminal. – But." He took another sip of tea. "Taking into consideration what happened at the house, his service record and with Moriarty sniffing around god knows where, I feel a man with Arthur Pendragon's experience would be most sensible to have around. After all, you can't watch Sherlock _and_ Merlin. So maybe Mr. Pendragon would be a welcome addition to your little family."

John had to admit Mycroft had a point. The boy's military record was exemplary; it was only his family connection and employment after the army that was questionable. And maybe that's what they needed, someone who was just as dangerous as Moriarty. After all, he was a doctor first and a soldier second, killing wasn't really his nature, and Sherlock, was well Sherlock. And he couldn't watch both Sherlock and Merlin's backs. With a sigh, John realized he'd been out Holmes'ed and he hated it.

"Fine… Point made Mycroft." He thrust the file back into the man's hand.

"I'm glad you've seen sense John, because I can assure you Moriarty will strike again and he'll go for Sherlock's heart, which undoubtedly means Merlin and You." The eldest Holmes stated matter-of-factly.

John picked up his tea and concentrated on it alone, trying to ignore the calculating look on Mycroft's face. _A welcome addition to their family._ _Is that what they'd become now? A family?_ John was so caught up in his thoughts he barely heard Mycroft's goodbye.

"Well, I'll be going. Give my farewells to my brother and nephew. Tell Sherlock I'll contact him when the situation is resolved. Goodbye John."

Shaking himself out of his ponderings, he noticed Mycroft was heading down the stairs and called after him. "Goodbye Mycroft."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, come on what other middle name was I going to give him? lol. **

**And I've always thought that Mycroft's offer when he first met John was a test of his loyalty. I don't know why, it just feels that way to me. Maybe it's because I just a little bit in love with Mycroft Holmes (though not as much as Sherlock) and I think deep down he loves his kid brother. **


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

Sherlock hadn't spoken to him since their disagreement yesterday, though it hadn't really been a disagreement, more a case of John putting his large size 9 foot in his mouth. He'd had the whole night to think on what he'd said and he was fully willing to admit that he'd overreacted. He put it down to stress and the shift in their dynamic. With Merlin's introduction into their lives things had changed between the two of them. He couldn't explain why or even how, just that it felt different.

Mycroft had jokingly referred to them as a family. - Well, he assumed it had been a joke; it was hard to tell with that man. - And John had to admit that's how it felt, a strange dysfunctional family. The problem was he'd unwittingly taken on the role of a parent, and not just a parent, but a step-parent. He knew that was how Merlin saw him; it was there in his eyes and his tone. Like he in some crazy irrational way saw John as a threat, like he'd stolen Sherlock, which was ridiculous. After all, he hadn't even known Sherlock when Merlin was born. - But that was the feeling their 'family' had.

The strange thing was that John didn't exactly mind. Not about the family thing. He'd always wanted a family, had always planned to have one, but then life and Sherlock had gotten in the way. Yes, Sherlock Holmes was very much an obstacle to that plans. Every time he found a nice woman, like Sarah or Janette and he thought of settling down, he just couldn't picture it. He had this reoccurring dream that he just couldn't shake, over and over. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn't ignore it, and couldn't get rid of it.

He was in a church; there was music, guests taking their seats. He was stood at front of the church waiting to see… whoever was fool enough to marry him. Then there she would be, beautiful in white, smiling brightly, walking towards him. Everything would be perfect. They'd turn to the vicar, smiling; she'd say her vows with absolute devotion and love glowing in her face. Then it would reach his part.

"Do you, John Hamish Watson, take - whoever - to be your lawful wedded wife, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold from this day forward? Will you love her, honour her, cherish and keep her, and forsaking all others, be faithful unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

And that's when it happens. That's when the words freeze in his throat. Because he can love her, honour her. He can cherish and keep her. That's not a problem, that's easy. But forsaking all others? That was the clincher. Because there was one person who no matter what happened or didn't happen, not matter who he married or didn't marry, who always come first. One person he could never forsake.

Then the bastard was burst into the church, dead on cue, coat bellowing behind him, that ridiculous arrogant grin on his face, his chin up and his eyes gleaming as he yelled. "Hurry up John, we have a case!" And that's all it would take, he knew that. One look from that excited arrogant grin and the announcement of a case and he'd be gone, because no one could ever come before Sherlock Holmes.

Knowing that, John was sure, was why he'd been acting so on edge. Why Merlin's rant about their relationship had hit a raw nerve, which had made him speak without consideration of his friends feelings. Because he didn't want to believe his friend had any. Because it was easier to think that it was just friendship between them. That Sherlock had meant it when he'd said he didn't do relationships. Because if there was something there, if this really wasn't just two friends and flat-mates, if they had actually become a family, that meant…._something_. - And he wasn't ready for _something_.

"Sherlock?"

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

More silence. John sighed from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Can we not do this?"

"Do what John?" Sherlock said coolly, bent over his microscope at the kitchen table.

"You ignoring me." John sighed, his hands in his pockets.

"I am not ignoring you John. I am simply not talking. I did warn you before you moved in."

The doctor rolled his eyes and groaned. "Sherlock. We've been together for almost a year, I know the bloody difference between your contemplating and when you're bloody ignoring me!" he snapped angrily.

Sherlock looked up to meet the man's gaze with one of cold distances. "Together? We are not _together_ John; we are flat-mate and friends. - You made that very clear." he went back to his work. "On countless occasions." he added.

John didn't know if he wanted to kick himself or Sherlock. Why couldn't they just go back to normality? Why had everything become so difficult? "Sherlock, please stop being a bastard and talk to Me." he said tiredly.

Sherlock took a breath and leant back on his stool to meet John's drained gaze. "Well?" he said, folding his arms over his deep purple shirt. "What do you wish to discuss. - I hope you are not planning of repeating you opinions on the Merlin/Arthur situation again, because that matter is not up for discussion."

John pulled the other stool up and sat opposite his friend, slouching in the seat, which just went to show how weary he was. "Sherlock…" he exhaled. "…this isn't about Merlin or Arthur. - It's about us."

"Us?" Sherlock smirked humorlessly. "I was not under the impression there was an _'us'_ John."

"Stop okay." John said harshly. "Stop being pedantic. - I know what I said to Merlin and Mycroft hurt your feelings."

Sherlock scoffed. "Since when have you been under the impression that I have feelings? I thought it was common knowledge that I am an emotionless sociopath."

John glared across the table. "I've never believed that Sherlock, and you know it."

"Haven't you? Well, I have clearly misjudged your intelligence."

"_Jesus Sherlock_!" John was growing increasingly angry with his friend's attitude. "You're my best friend Sherlock, and I thought I was yours. I know better than anyone what kind of person you are. You're emotional, caring and loyal. You love Mrs. Hudson…" John's voice was growing louder as his irritation turned to frustration and anger. "…You love your son and you love me."

Sherlock stared wide eyed and speechless. He didn't speak or move or blink. He just watched the changes on John's face as he realised what he'd just yelled across the kitchen table.

"Merlin?" Sherlock finally said, his gaze never leaving John's.

"Wh…" John frown, his face scarlet.

"Sorry." the young man's voice echoed over John's shoulder, causing him to close his eyes in horror. "I didn't mean to…. Interrupt."

"It is perfectly alright Merlin." Sherlock smiled, finally turning to his son. "We were just… discussing our…."

John watched Sherlock nervously. There was no way the boy hadn't heard what he'd said.

"…tenancy agreement." Sherlock finished. "What can I…_we_, do for you?"

"I - uh, I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading out with some friends from college."

Sherlock frowned.

"Given up mopping?" John said, not meaning for it to sound like a sarky comment, but sadly that was how it was taken.

Sherlock watched Merlin's gaze narrow and his chin lift, in a now very familiar way and he knew what was coming, and inwardly sighed. "Merlin…"

"I have not been mopping!" he yelled. "I've been missing the man I love; I'm sorry if you're too fucking heartless and closeted to know the difference."

John rubbed at his eyes. He'd given up; the fighting was just too much. "I didn't mean…I'm sorry Merlin." he got out of his chair and headed for the door. "I'm sorry for everything, alright. I just want to stop fighting, I've had enough of it for one lifetime." he strolled past Merlin and up the stairs to his room. Leaving two matching faces filled with concern in his wake.

"Is he alright?"

"No. I don't think he is." Sherlock frowned.

Merlin turned his deep blue eyes to his father. "I - I didn't mean to… you know."

"Yes, and neither did he. He's just worried about you Merlin. He has been since the day he discovered you were missing."

"What?" Merlin frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's just how he is. - And because you're my son and that put you on his list of people to take care of."

"Oh. I - I didn't…."

"No. - Nor I…. we've been so concerned about each other that we have not stopped to think about John."

Merlin hung his head guiltily, moving to take john's vacated seat. "I didn't mean to shout at him. - Or give him a hard time this last few months."

"I know…" Sherlock gaze never left the empty doorway. "…He hasn't exactly made things easy either, but that's what John does. He questions my every decision, makes me think things through. He just doesn't want us to get hurt."

They sat in silence for a long time, it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was just silence, each of them thinking over the last four months.

"Was it true?" Merlin eventually asked.

"Was what true?" Sherlock had gone back to his work.

"What John said, about you loving me and him?"

The detective didn't look up. "Yes." He said matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Merlin chewed his lip.

Silence reigned again.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"D-Did you… love mum?"

Sherlock lifted his eyes from the microscope and stared wordlessly at Merlin, his mind a wash with feelings and memories. "I…" he swallowed back the pain. "Yes, in my own way."

"But not…you know."

"Your mother was my first true friend Merlin. She gave me so much I can't possible thank her for. Including you, but no, I didn't love her like that. I wish I could have." he sighed guiltily. "She deserved me to."

Merlin watched his father through new eyes. Seeing him the way her mother must have. The way John did.

"She was a wonderful person Merlin and I was lucky to have known her. She will always hold a special place in my heart."

Merlin smiled sadly to himself. It was nice to know his father had cared for his mum, even if it wasn't the way she cared for him. But his mum had been happy with it just being them, they hadn't needed Sherlock, they'd had each other. But Merlin knew his mum would have wanted then to get to know each other, To be a family. She would have run his over the coals for treating John so badly. She would have like him, Merlin was sure of that.

"So where are you going?" Sherlock asked casually.

"Just the SU Bar."

"Well, be careful." he said, lifting his phone of the tabletop.

"Oh come on. Do you have to text Mycroft every time I go out?" Merlin groaned.

Sherlock met his son's gaze. "Merlin you should know by now that I only contact my brother in the most dire of circumstances. Besides I do not need to inform him of your movements, he'll know the moment you leave the flat."

Merlin sighed dramatically. "So who are you texting?"

"Lestrade actually."

"About the dead window cleaner?"

"Yes."

"So you figured it out?" Merlin smiled.

"Of course. Obvious really, but you know Lestrade, always wants the evidence."

"Do you think he'll believe it?"

Sherlock frowned. "Believe it? Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, the neighbor's German Sheppard is a rather unusual murderer." Merlin smirked.

Sherlock stared at his son with wide eyes amazement. "How did you know that?"

Merlin shrugged. "Lucky guess?" then a broad smile spread across his lips. "Or maybe because I can read your writing upside down." he laughed, nodding to the note pad at Sherlock's elbow, his father's eyes narrowed dangerously, before a matching smirk spread across his lips.

"I better go."

"See you later, and don't forget."

"I know, be care, don't take sweets from strangers and always stay in view of the CCTV cameras so uncle Mycroft can watch my every move."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the younger man, but they were filled with pride.

Merlin was half out the door when he paused and looked back at his father. "Sherlock?"

"Yes Merlin."

"Do you…think…it would be alright if I go and apologize to John?"

Sherlock looked at him, confused for a few seconds. "Apologize?"

"Yes. – You know, when you say 'sorry for being a wanker'."

The detective shrugged. "I guess so."

Merlin gave a final nod before heading off towards the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I think we'll only have one or two more chapters left people.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing all. Love ya for it. **


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

"John?" Merlin called through the thick wooden door.

"Yes."

"Can I come in please?"

There was a long moment of silence. Merlin was turning to leave with a heavy heart when he heard John call him back. He pushed the door open cautiously to find John sat at the small desk in the corner, his laptop open in front of him. He was sat there, just staring at the bright screen. Merlin could see the lines around his eyes and the dark shadows beneath them. Guilt flooded him. He'd been overly harsh to John Watson these last few months and right now he hated himself for it. When had he become such a spoilt brat?

"What can I do for you Merlin? If you're here to start another…."

"No. I - I've come to apologize." he said sadly, glazing at his feet.

John turned in his seat, watching the younger man. "It's fine. - We've all been under a lot of stress of late. It was bound to have an effect on us."

"Yeah but, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I really am sorry John." he sighed.

"Really Merlin, its fine."

John watched and waited for the young man to leave; only he just stood there silent and remorseful.

"John, can I ask you something. - Personal?"

John swallowed; he wasn't going to like this. _Then say no_. "What?"

"Why do you have such a problem with me being gay?"

John's eyes widened with shock. "I don't."

Merlin didn't look convinced.

"Really, Merlin, I don't. What you do in your personal life is up to you. As long as you're happy that's all that matters."

"I'm happy with Arthur." Merlin fought to keep his tone civil.

"I - I" John swallowed, he didn't want another argument. "I'm not going to comment on that situation Merlin, because I haven't met him, I haven't seen you together. - and I can't feel what you feel."

"But you do."

John's brows drew together in confusion.

"With Sherlock…I know you do, I see it. Your just so… I don't know, scared, in denial or something. You won't let yourself admit that…"

"Merlin there's nothing between me and your father but friendship."

Merlin dropped down on the end of John's bed and stared at him, causing the doctor to shift under the weight of those blue eyes, so like his father yet completely different.

"Would you die for him?"

"What?"

"Sherlock, would you die for him?" Merlin repeated his eyes locked on John.

The doctor didn't know if he wanted to answer that question, but found he was unable to stop himself. "Yes."

"Do you have fun arguing with him?" Merlin asked with a sad wishful smile.

"Yes." John sighed, swallowing his pounding heart.

"When he's upset with you, does it hurt?"

John dropped his gaze to his lap, not answering.

"Where you jealous when you found out about my mother and me? - Have you ended relationships with women because of him? Would you kill for him? Do love living with him? - Can you imagine your life without him?"

John shifted around to stare at his laptop screen, his heart hammering in his chest, his head spinning. He could feel his hands shaking, trembling more than when he'd suffered from his PTSD.

Merlin got off his the bed and headed for the door. "That's just how me and Arthur are. I swear it. - Can you still say what we have isn't real." Merlin sighed, looking over to the older man. "And if it's real for us, then it must be real for you." Then he was leaving, pulling the door to as he went.

John was left alone in his room with a throbbing headache and a weight on his shoulder he wasn't sure he would ever be rid of. What was he meant to do now? He wasn't gay; he wasn't just saying that, he knew it. But Merlin was right, everything he'd asked, every answer he hadn't given led to the same place. He loved Sherlock. He just wasn't sure if he could do anything about it.

Strolling to his bed, John fell back against the pillow and closed his eyes, rubbing at them with a still trembling hand. Maybe Sherlock didn't want him to do anything, after all the man hadn't given any indication of wanting to be physical, with anyone least of all John. The man was practically asexual and John didn't have any over whelming desire to jump into bed with the man, not now, not ever. It wasn't physical, it was more than that. - John knew that was a thousand time more dangerous, because sex, sex you could deal with, desire wore off and life carried on. Love? That was a whole different kettle of fish. That was permanent.

Okay so sometime that wore off too. Look at Harry and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Love wasn't always forever. Yet somewhere in his gut or his heart, or the universe he knew that wasn't going to happen to him and Sherlock, which was terrifying.

John groaned when Sherlock's voice startled him awake. He hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep. With a second loud blast of Sherlock's voice, John threw his legs off the bed and marched down stairs, his mind still awash with reminisces of his reoccurring dream.

**~SHERLOCK/MERLIN~**

**MGS: Sherlock**

**On our way.**

**M**

"John!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs from his seat at the kitchen table. "John! Mycroft's on his way!"

"What?" John mumbled wearily from the green doorway.

"Mycroft is on his way."

The doctor walked over to the kettle. "Why? Not another case, we still haven't finished that window cleaner thing."

Sherlock smirked. "I text Lestrade everything he needed to know on that case."

John swung around with a fresh frown. "You solved it?"

"Of course."

"But we have…" he turned back to the kettle, watching and waiting for it to boil.

Sherlock watched his friend for a second. "It was an accident. The neighbor's German Sheppard knocked the ladder while chasing a cat."

"Oh." John's gaze remained fixed to the kettle.

"Are you doing an experiment John?"

"What?"

"Testing if the old adage about a watched kettle."

"It's a watched pot Sherlock. - And no I'm not." he sighed.

"Then why are you standing there watching the kettle as if it might vanish before you've made the tea."

John huffed a laugh and turned to meet his friend's unusual blue gaze. "Sherlock, do you think we'll ever get back to how we were?"

"I do not understand John?"

"This awkwardness. You not talking to me about cases, me walking on eggshell, this uncomfortable distance between us."

"I have kept you informed of all the important elements."

John shook his head sadly. "We both know things have been strained Sherlock, ever since Merlin's disappearance. No, actually I think it was before that, since Moriarty tried to kill us at the pool. You've been pushing me away, bit by bit."

Sherlock stared at John, watched the sadness and the tiredness on his face. He felt his chest tighten at the sight. He hadn't meant to push his friend away. What was he thinking, yes he had. He'd meant to do just that. He wanted to keep John safe, and if that meant losing his best friend, the first person since Hunith to actually care about him, then so be it.

"Sherlock?"

"I am just trying to protect you John."

The doctor's heart leapt. "I can look after myself Sherlock. I was a soldier remember."

"You were a doctor."

"I still learnt how to kill people." John snapped. "Keep pushing me away and you'll give Moriarty what he wants, you alone and unprotected."

"I have lived years without you watching my back John."

John glared at him. "And you really want to go back to that life?"

The two men stared at each other, acknowledging the truth silently.

"No John. I do not." Sherlock finally said with a heavy sigh.

John nodded. "Then please Sherlock, stop pushing alright. Can we just let's get back to normal."

Sherlock didn't answer; he just got to his feet, turned on his heel and strolled nonchalantly into the living room, flinging himself down into his grey leather chair he picked up the morning paper that had been abandoned hours ago.

John felt the weight vanish the instant Sherlock walked away, they were back to normal and it felt good. He smiled to himself as he turned back to the kettle that had finally boiled. Pulling their mugs off the shelf John began to make the tea. _Most defiantly back to normal_.

_But for how long? _How long could he ignore the dreams, the thoughts and the feelings? Somehow Merlin's arrival in their lives, the issue with Arthur, it had unlocked something inside him that he wasn't sure he wanted to face. For months his emotions were at war and it was taking its toll on then all. He pour the hot water into the mugs, watching it gush over the tea bags as he considered what to do.

With the teas made, John decide that his only option was to just go back to pretending. He didn't have to make decisions or contemplate the meaning of his life right now. He had years ahead of him, years with Sherlock. One day he knew he would have to face up to his feelings, up to what he wanted. - But not now.

"So why is Mycroft coming over?" John asked as he handed Sherlock him mug and dropped into his usual seat, leaning back into the large cushions.

"Sherlock, haven't you mended your bell yet, poor Mycroft was on the doorstep ten minutes." Mrs. Hudson cooed suddenly from the doorway.

"Hardly Mrs. Hudson, he was only their three minutes and four-six seconds. And mending the bell is not necessary when you are there to open the door." Sherlock announced matter-of-factly, his attention fixed solely on the paper in his hands.

"I'm your landlady Sherlock, not your housekeeper." his repeat her mantra that always seemed to fall on the deaf ears of Sherlock and John. Not that the woman actually cared, she loved looking after them. - If she was honest.

John jumped at the sudden announcement of Mrs. Hudson's voice; he turned around in his seat to see the eldest Holmes stood slightly behind Mrs. Hudson, with a familiar young man at his side.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Now honestly can you tell me that in the series, John would answer no to any of the questions Merlin asked him? **

**I did say I wasn't sure if this was going to slash John and Sherlock, but I guess it kinda turned into that, but in a different way to Merlin and Arthur. Maybe it's the age thing; Merlin and Arthur are in the twenties when their still a slave to hormones, while Sherlock and John are mature world weary men, sex isn't the top of their list of priorities. (Well, it's pretty high up John's) For them it's about companionship, friendship and needing to have that connection. **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to post this final chapter. My internet crashed and I haven't been able to get on line. :D Really Sorry guys.**

**Oh and BTW, more Male/Male sex. Be warned. **

**Anyway, Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY SIX<strong>

**Message:**

**Come Home.**

**S **

Merlin frowned down at the message and groaned.

"What's wrong?" asked Gwen as she placed a pint in front of him.

"Just my dad, he wants me to come home."

"You've only been here an hour." She complained.

"It's probably nothing." Merlin dismissed. "He's really protective."

"Man that sucks." Gwen rolled her eyes. "How are you meant to meet a guy if you're locked up at home?"

Merlin met his new friend's gaze. "I have a boyfriend." He stated.

"What?" Gwen gasped. "You never said."

Merlin's eye glazed over. "It's complicated."

"How complicated?"

"Arthur… It's kind of long distance."

"Really? Man that must be hard. Where is he?" Merlin didn't want to go into his and Arthur's situation. He knew what Gwen's reaction would be. The same as John's and the doctors and therapist, she's jump to the same conclusion.

Besides he didn't want her thinking badly of Arthur, especially if Sherlock and Mycroft were able to get him released. Which he went to bed praying they would.

"He's… surviving his country." it wasn't exactly a lie. He was being looked after by her majesty, right?

"Wow, a soldier. Aren't we a lucky boy?" Gwen grinned mischievously. "Is he hot in his uniform?" Gwen giggled.

Merlin matched her smirk. "He looks better out of it." he winked, causing Gwen to roar in laughter as Merlin's phone beeped again.

**Message:**

**Car waiting.**

**M**

"Dad again?" Gwen smirked.

Merlin frowned at the message. "No, my uncle." now he was beginning to worry. Getting a message from Sherlock was one thing, getting one from Mycroft just a few moments later, that wasn't good. A bad feeling swamped him. Had something happened to Sherlock? To John? - To Arthur? He was out of his seat in a beat. "I better go. It might be an emergency."

Gwen looked worried too. "Of course. Text me later okay, let me know everything's alright."

"Yeah, thanks." he was rushing away as fast as his feet could carry him.

He reached the pavement to find a black car waiting for him, the now familiar face of Andria smiled at him for a brief moment before taping away at her phone. Merlin climbed into the back seat and settled back against the leather. "Don't suppose there's any point in asking you what's going on."

Andria just smirked at him as the car pulled away.

Over the past three months, Mycroft had sent Andria and the black car for him a few times. Usually when they thought there might be a threat on the horizon, which never turned out to actually be there. Merlin always had a slight suspicion that it was Mycroft showing he cared, in his own odd-ball kind of way. Maybe he was trying to play favourite uncle, which was kind of sweet and funny.

The car pulled up outside 221B and Merlin took a deep breath. There wasn't any sign of police car's or ambulances, so clearly no one was dead or dying, so why was he order home? He nervously stepped out of a car, a soft "Thanks." mumbled over his shoulder.

He'd never felt so anxious in his life. Really he hadn't. Not when he'd been waiting for his exam results, not even when he'd sat by Arthur's bed in the hospital until he was almost forcible remove. There was something in the air that had his heart pounding and his gut tightening painfully. He took the steps slowly, his heartbeat increasing with each step till he thought that it may actually pound right through his ribcage.

Merlin froze in the doorway to his father's flat, just staring. The heart that had been slamming painfully all the way up the stairs had stopped at the sight of blond hair and blue eyes. At the confident caring full lips that were pulled into a smile. The room was silent and he could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he didn't care, the only eyes he cared at all about were Arthur's.

"You're…you're really…" Merlin stuttered.

Arthur shrugged.

The younger man was frozen to the spot with shock. He wasn't even sure he could actually believe his eyes.

John watched the two young men with a soft smile pulling at his lips. Just a single look at the pair chased away his doubts. There was no way you could fake that look. It spoke volumes. He turned his gaze to Sherlock, who was sat nonchalantly in his seat, typing on his mobile, Mycroft had claimed John's chair where he sat in a similar manner rolling his umbrella between his fingers. Sherlock lifted his gaze to meet John for a few seconds before going back to his mobile, his voice matter-of-fact as he spoke. "He is very much real Merlin."

John turned his attention back to the youngest Holmes in the room, seeing his face go from pale white to a warm flush. Then Arthur was walking towards him, a bright smile on his face. John felt his heart skip as the boy wrapped his arms around the slightly younger man, pulling him into a tight loving hug.

Sherlock smirked as he watched John through his lashes, seeing the sentimental pull of his lips and the tears pooling in his eyes. He loved how soppy and romantic his friend was. He was all too human sometime, and he really envied him for it, though since meeting John Watson he'd begun to see the world through those eyes. He glanced over to his son and saw him stood with his armed wrapped tightly around the other man's back, holding on to him for dear life. He understood that feeling.

"Why don't you go and get Arthur settled in." Sherlock said, turning to look at his brother. "And introduce him to Mrs. Hudson."

Merlin pulled away from Arthur, looking up at him with adoring eyes before turning to look at his father and uncle. It was the surprise of a life time when he bolted across the room and wrapped them both in grateful hugs, first Mycroft then Sherlock. John burst into laughter at the look on Mycroft's face. Sherlock simply rolled his eyes as his son's arms tightened around his shoulders and he whispered, "Thanks you Dad." before pulling away.

Sherlock hadn't expected the flood of joy hearing that word would bring and he had to fight the tears that filled his down turned eyes. Clearing his throat he made demands of his friend. "John where's my tea?"

"I'd leave Mrs. Hudson for a while; she'll keep you talking for hours." John announced with a nod.

"John. Tea." Sherlock repeated. "Leave Merlin." he ordered.

"Yes _dad_." he laughed before rushing back to Arthur. "Come on, you're going to love the flat."

Arthur collected his small bag and followed after Merlin, but not before nodding his thanks to Sherlock, who returned it with just a little hint of parental warning in his blue eyes, that had a shiver shooting through Arthur's spine.

**~MERLIN/SHERLOCK~**

Merlin pushed open the door to his flat with a shaking hand. He couldn't believe Arthur was actually there with him. When he'd walked into his father's flat and seen the handsome blond stood there he'd honestly thought he was dreaming. It wasn't until he'd felt Arthur's arms around him, squeezing him tight that he'd really begun to believe the fantasy. They stepped over the threshold of the small one bedroom flat. Suddenly noticing the mess he'd left behind. "Shit. Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting company." Merlin said in a rush starting to pick up discarded clothing, magazines and food wrappers. "Mrs. Hudson says I'm as bad as Sherlock. It took me almost a week to convince her I didn't need her looking after me." He blustered on.

Arthur watched him with a wide grin. It was strange watching the man fussing around but at the same time it felt completely right, like he'd finally found what he'd spent years searching for, what his father had never been able to give him, a feeling of belonging. Dropping the small bag of cloths Mycroft had retrieved from his flat before it was confiscated as part of the investigation into his father's business dealings, he took three steps forwards and wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist. "Shut up Merlin." He whispered into the man's ear, savoring the shudder that went through the younger mans body.

They just stood there for a while, Arthur's chin resting on Merlin's shoulder while the mop of raven hair lounged against his own. Finally the desire for each other was too strong to ignore any longer, they'd been apart too long and all they wanted was to be together. To reconnect with what they'd briefly shared.

Arthur turned Merlin in his arms and stared into the deep blue eyes he'd spent the past three months dreaming off. He brushed his thumb over the sharp cheekbones and lips that had sent those dreams spiraling dangerously out of control. Unable to hold back a second longer Arthur dropped his mouth to capture Merlin's.

Their kiss was soft and slow at first, one of reunion, but it quickly turned hot and passionate. Tongues tangled, teeth nipped at lips and the world vanished around them. Hand began tugging desperately at clothing till bare skin met bare skin, igniting a fresh wave of need, lust and passion.

"Oh God I've missed you." Arthur moaned against Merlin's open mouth before diving back into the kiss, his hands clinging tightly at Merlin's hips, tugging the pelvis tight against him.

Merlin groaned at the action, rolling his hip in search of that blissful feeling the contact sent swimming through his body. When Arthur pulled back to take another gulp of air he was able to reply. "Me too, you have no id…" he was cut off by Arthur mouth.

The slightly older man's hands had loosened their grip on Merlin's hips to begin fussing with the fly of his jeans. Popping the button, yanking down the zip and roughly forcing the dark denim off his hips the harsh movement of the think fabric sending sparks through his hardening erection, causing him to moan deep in his throat. Merlin swiftly followed Arthur's lead, removing the blondes' jeans with the same panicked desperation. The pair were flesh to flesh in less time than it took to boil an egg and were stumbling over each other to get to a surface, any surface. They moved blindly though the flat, but were soon stopped in their progress by a cold wall colliding with Merlin's naked back. He hissed at the sudden impact but found he was unable to separate himself from it, as Arthur's fully aroused and determined body pushed him hard against, his hips rolling roughly against Merlin's until the younger man was gasping.

Merlin's fingers buried themselves deep into Arthur's thick blond strands, tugging mercilessly. His right thigh lifting of its own accord till it was high enough to brush against the solid muscle of Arthur's own, creating a prefect angle to grind into his partner. Arthur's fingers bit deep into the raised muscle, his other hand going in search of its partner. Gripping both thighs, Arthur used his superior strength to heave the other man off his feet, Merlin's slim pale legs wrapping around. The heat between them was steadily growing, hips rolled, steel hard flesh stroking against each other. The room was quickly filled with the scent of sweat and sex, of moan's and gasps.

Merlin could feel his climax hovering over the horizon and he reached out for it, grinding faster into his partner. "A-Arthur I- I want you….Arttthuur." he part gasped, part growled. "Please." His legs slid to the ground unsteady but Arthur's strong arm around him kept him upright. The younger man groaned at the feel of saliva slicked fingers pushing into him, stretching him while Arthur's hot mouth continued to feed of each sound that the sensations chew from Merlin's throat.

It felt like forever but finally Arthur pulled his head away and turned Merlin. The younger man's hands resting flat against the red wall, his palms spread as wide as his legs, his head hanging forward as he felt Arthur push into him. He didn't moan or gasp the sound that flooded from his lips was a content welcoming sigh, which Arthur matching perfectly.

They fit together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. Destiny had designed them for this and it filled them both with a sense of belonging. With himself fully buried in the man he'd fallen in love with, Arthur snaked an arm around his want, his finger locking gently around his throbbing hard arousal, his lips pressed to the curve of Merlin's neck, kissing and biting in succession, his hand moving in rhythm with his thrusts, faster and faster. They didn't know if it was the intensity of being together again after so long or if it was proof of their fated connection but when they came, it was together, their combined voices echoing off the walls.

Neither of them could hold their weight for long after their climax and they crashed to the floor, a tangle of sweat and cum coated limbs. Lying on their backs, they stared breathlessly up at the ceiling. Once they'd finally found their way back to earth, Arthur turned to Merlin, pulling him into his arms to kissing him languidly. After a few minutes he pulled away and found tears staining the younger man's cheeks. His heart constricted.

"Merlin? Did…did I hurt you?" he asked nervously, visions of their last time together filling his mind.

Merlin gave him a watery smile and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "No. - I just…I never thought I'd see you again. I was so scared I'd lost you forever." He sniffled.

Arthur wiped the tears away with a trembling hand. "You'd never lose me, even if I'd had to spend half my life inside, you wouldn't have lost me. Not unless you wanted to."

Merlin just shook his head and settled it on Arthur's shoulder, his arms wrapping around the older man's waist.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm."

"Are you sure you want this."

Merlin's eyes snapped open, sitting up to stare down at him. "Of course. - Why don't…" his voice broke with fear.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want you." Arthur insisted, pulling Merlin back against his shoulder. "I just need to be sure it's as real for you as it is for me. I don't want you to think that we have to continue just because…."

Merlin slammed a hand over Arthur's mouth and glared at him dangerously. "You're not here because I'm grateful or bored or in search of a bit of rough."

Arthur laughed under the hand.

"You're here because I want you because I fell in love with you even when I knew I shouldn't. I can't imagine my life without you Arthur, so stop being a prat and let me sleep." He finished drowsily.

Arthur kissed the palm that was still pressed over his mouth then pulled it away and dragged Merlin into a proper kiss. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of kissing Merlin or touching Merlin, his hand gliding over the smooth expanse of Merlin's backside, or loving Merlin. "I love you too you know." Arthur whispered.

"Well that's convenient." Merlin laughed lightly as sleep claimed him.

**~SHERLOCK/MERLIN~**

John sat in his chair watching his friend, a mug of tea between his hands. Mycroft had left a few moments after Merlin and Arthur, and John was thankful to have his chair back, along some peace at last. He had to admit that a feeling of calm had fallen over 221B and he was grateful for it. He just hoped it lasted.

He was taking a sip of his tea when the noise from the room below reached them. John stared over the edge of his mug to Sherlock, froze with embarrassment. Sherlock didn't seem partially discomforted though, meeting John's gaze with a knowing smirk. The noise continued and John found himself shifting in his seat as the sounds brought his imagination to life, which only increased the redness of his face.

"So." he said in a tight voice, turning his attention away from Sherlock. "Uh…"

Before he could think of anything to say, Sherlock was on his feet, hovering over him. John swallowed hard as he raised wide questioning eyes to his friend. Sherlock just stared back at him for a few moments, before finally speaking. "Come on."

John's heart pounded against his chest, his palms felt unbelievably sweaty and it felt like he's swallowed a grapefruit. He shifted once again in his seat; a fresh barrage of salacious and erotic images running rough shot through his mind. "Uh, huh….Wh…"

Sherlock laughed as he turned away from his friend. "You coming or not? - Or do you really wish to sit there and listen to my son have unnecessarily noisy sex?"

"Wha… where…?"

"St. Bart's. There's a body I just can't wait to get my hands on." Sherlock announced with a deep husky and teasing tone as he shrugged into his coat.

The bastard had said it on purpose of course, John knew it. Sherlock found every opportunity to embarrass and wind-up his friend, flat-mate and colleague. _Back to normal_ John mumbled to himself feeling at easy with his life despite the chaos in his mind. Getting out of his seat and thankful that his imagination hadn't left evidence on his body, he retrieving his jacket and followed the still chuckling Sherlock.

The pair exited the flat with a scarlet faced Mrs. Hudson, who'd decided it was the perfect time to do the shopping; John didn't notice the sign across the street as he wailed a cab. Sadly Sherlock Holmes did and a chill shot right to his heart.

**I OWN YOU. **

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hate writing endings. It****'****s so hard to do it without making it all sound so cliché. Tiring up all those lose endings, it drives me crazy. Anyho, that was it, the end of the adventure. I hope you enjoyed the run, I did. Yes, I know I didn****'****t deal with Sherlock and John's sexual tension/love life but I don****'****t know, it just didn****'****t feel right. Now before I start getting a thousand and one messages demanding a follow-up, let me say that I MIGHT write a one shot later on, but I****'****ve got a ton of other stories floating around I want to concentrate on. So you****'****ll have to wait and see. Alright?**

**Thank you all soooo much for reading this story, I****'****ve loved reading your reviews and comments. You****'****ve kept me writing and made me very happy. Well I****'****m off to rest for a while before getting onto with the other stories awaiting my attention. See you soon.**

***hugs***

**GATERGIRL**

**xxx**


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